


It looks ugly, but it's clean

by lazarusthefirst



Series: Open Hand or Closed Fist [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, new life, vague medical activities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-07-12 13:01:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 44,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19946599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazarusthefirst/pseuds/lazarusthefirst
Summary: Life after the Nest is not just about surviving





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is actually DONE and will be updated weekly! 
> 
> This ended up being fairly linear, but it was originally intended to be a series of oneshot-type scenes about Jean's new life. But I wove a story in anyways because you can't teach a gay dog new tricks. Enjoy!
> 
> PS - won't make sense if you didn't read part one

Jean wasn’t sure if the pain woke him up, or the rattling floor beneath his body. Before he could think too hard about either of those things, panic set in as he realised he was strapped down.

He struggled; nothing happened. A whimper of panic escaped lips too sluggish to form a proper cry. Fear, and memories, rose up to choke.

Then Kevin was there. Jean knew him by the grip on his arm. Then he caught the scent of him, and heard the rush of his breath.

‘It’s ok.’

That just brought further questions; nothing was ever ok with Kevin. Jean could smell blood. He could feel it, too; dried and crumbling on his fingertips. And he was strapped to a rumbling, shaking floor. He wished he could clutch back at Kevin.

‘Hey, you listen to me,’ snapped Kevin, sensing Jean’s agitation. ‘It’s ok because I say it’s ok. You just stay still and let me do the thinking for once.’

Jean stilled. ‘Where are we?’ he whispered.

Kevin gave a little sigh, more frustrated than upset. ‘On a truck,’ he said. ‘We made it to the halfway point. Do you - remember that?’

Vaguely. Jean didn’t want to think back that far. ‘Where are we going?’

‘You arrived late,’ Kevin said, quietly. ‘They just had time to patch you up - but you’re still not well. The doctor’s here - she’s sleeping. We’re on our way to … somewhere. Somewhere safe.’

 _Safe_. Jean hardly knew what that meant.

‘Neil?’

Kevin nodded. Jean could just make him out in the darkness. ‘He’s here too. He’s … fine, I guess. He’s up front with Andrew.’

Jean frowned. ‘Why aren’t you up there too?’ Typical of them to get into a fight the second they’re left unsupervised.

Kevin reached down and touched his bloody fingers. ‘Not leaving you,’ he muttered.

They were silent for a little while after that. Kevin kept a hold of Jean’s hand, and the truck rumbled around them. Jean didn’t know what trucks were supposed to look like on the inside, but he could make out bodies up against the walls, sitting upright, on seats of some sort. Jean was lying in the middle of it all, and Kevin was sitting on the ground beside him, shifting unsteadily whenever the truck took a turn.

Jean drifted off again, soothed by Kevin’s presence. If Kevin was calm, then things must be fine. Jean closed his eyes against the pain in his body.

*

Jeremy hadn’t moved in hours. He kept trying to sleep, but his brain was so loud. He kept his eyes trained on Jean, so that even in the unlit truck he noticed it when Jean stirred.

Kevin was there right away, of course. He’d been watching Jean just as closely. Jeremy tried not to listen to their conversation, but he automatically strained to hear Jean’s words. He voice sounded weak, but clear. Jeremy’s heart fluttered faintly to hear it.

Jean fell asleep again. Jeremy thought now he might be able to relax, but the road became bumpy. He had no idea where they were headed, but his brain kept trying to memorise the route, exhausting him further.

They’d been driving for about six hours or so, and no one had been talking to him before that. Then he heard his name, and thought he was imagining it.

But it was Kevin, calling him.

Jeremy blinked. ‘What? Sorry.’

Kevin regarded him, motionless. ‘You haven’t slept?’

Jeremy shook his head. His neck muscles felt like they hadn’t been used in years. ‘I can’t.’

Kevin stared. ‘He’s fine.’

Jeremy shifted slightly. Not to be a downer, but … ‘He’s alive.’

Kevin shrugged. ‘More than he hoped for.’

Jeremy rested his chin on his knees. ‘It wasn’t meant to happen this way,’ he murmured. ‘Ever since he met me, he’s been getting hurt.’

‘That’s not your fault.’

Jeremy sighed. ‘It’s not _his_ fault. But he’s the only one getting hurt.’

Kevin was silent for a few minutes. Then, he said, ‘He doesn’t regret it.’

Jeremy thought about what Jean had said before about wishing that none of this had ever happened, and that things could just go back to how they had been before. And that was before he’d almost died trying to save them all. ‘He might.’

‘He won’t.’

‘How do you know?’

Jeremy hadn’t meant to ask. He certainly hadn’t meant to sound so anxious.

Kevin snorted. ‘I know him. He’s been miserable his whole life. Do you know how often he used to smile?’

‘No.’

‘About as often as I do.’

Their quiet laughter was lost to the noise of the truck and the road.

Then Kevin said, ‘He smiles a lot now. That’s because of you. He’s happy.’

Jeremy shouldn’t have smiled, but he couldn’t keep it off his face. He rested his cheek on his knees and turned his head away so he could keep it to himself.

For a while, the only sound was gentle sleep noises, the rattle of the truck, and the quiet slosh of Jean’s IV bag. Jeremy thought he might be able to sleep now, but then the truck clunked over a speed bump and Jeremy was instantly on the alert again. It could have been any speed bump, but it was followed by a deceleration and a sharp left turn. Jeremy’s heartbeat quickened. They were almost home.

The turn woke Abby up too. She clicked on a small torch fixed to a headband and peered over at Jean. ‘He wake up?’

Jeremy glanced at Kevin, who was slumped on the floor next to him. ‘Just for a minute.’

‘Was he talking?’

‘Yeah. Some.’

Abby hmm’d over him. Jeremy was worried Jean would wake under her hands, but he knew from experience that Abby’s hands were careful and reassuring. They didn’t disturb or cause fear. Even so, Jeremy held his breath.

The other sleeping bodies in the truck began to wake. The air was close, and now that they were stirring the truck seemed to get smaller. Renee was slumped beside Abby, and Aaron and Katelyn were curled up like puppies at the back of the truck. None of them had been willing to separate. They hadn’t said anything, but Jean saving them had had a profound effect on the general psyche of the escapees. There had been a jostle to get a spot on this truck.

The vehicle began to slow, and take turns, and Jeremy realised the were nearly home. Palmetto had been transformed from an underfunded school to one of the last real militia strongholds on the east coast, and it was still holding. Jeremy had found himself here, and he was eager to see it again. He hoped that Jean might be able to find himself here, too.

*

When Jean woke up again, he couldn’t figure out what felt so wrong.

First, the absence of pain. His body felt heavy and numb, but also peaceful. He couldn’t find anything to be concerned about. This in itself should have been concerning, but it wasn’t.

Things came back in bits and pieces. He was alone, with nothing to distract him from the memories, not even pain. The room was dark, but not scary. There was light somewhere close. Nothing to worry about. Plenty to think about.

He tried to curl his hands, to feel them still slippery with blood. Proof. But someone had cleaned him up. It wasn’t enough to convince him he couldn’t still smell it. Jean closed his eyes but immediately opened them again, because the images were there.

Where was Kevin? Jean didn’t know how to interpret the silence of the room. He tried to move, but his body wasn’t responding. Still no panic, though. Interesting.

The silence was abruptly too much for him. He tried to breathe louder, just to make noise. The sound of his own breathing became horrifying. And then it began to increase, quite by itself, and his chest drew in tight like a drawstring. The world narrowed to a point, and the sides of his head began to tingle.

Something was beeping, but Jean had no space to think about it. Doors were opening, people were speaking.

‘Stop. It’s ok.’

Kevin’s voice was demanding, and frightened. Jean tried to listen to it, but he was being smothered.

Something was placed over his mouth. Gradually, breathing became easier. But the fear, once it arrived, was not so easy to forget.

*

No one had listened to Jeremy when he said Jean shouldn’t be alone. They said he needed to rest, he needed to heal. He should be by himself, and not be disturbed. If Kevin had been there he would have backed Jeremy up. But Kevin had finally come face to face with his father, and it had become impossible for anyone else to get his attention. Even Neil, although he and Andrew had slunk off together almost as soon as they’d gotten of the truck.

Jeremy tried to stick his oar in and argue that Jean should be put in with others, but Abby and the other doctor had whisked Jean off immediately, looking serious and business-like, and Jeremy had been snagged for debriefing, and Laila had given him a look that didn’t invite any argument. Since when had she become the boss? Jeremy had fallen into a leadership role quite naturally at Palmetto, but he supposed he may not deserve it anymore after what had happened at the Nest.

He’d never shared that nickname with Jean, the name they all knew the Moriyama estate by. It wouldn’t do him any good.

‘He shouldn’t be by himself,’ Jeremy said, catching Abby’s sleeve. ‘Put him in a room with someone else - another patient, please - ’

Abby just shook her head. ‘They need their rest too,’ she said, as gently as she could. ‘We don’t know what state Jean will be in when he wakes up.’

 _I do_ , Jeremy wanted to say. But he knew how naive that sounded. It was enough to convince himself he might be overreacting.

Still, it weighed on him. As he sat through his debriefing, listening to Laila and Alvarez give their sides of the story, he didn’t think about how much trouble he might be in. Instead, he thought about how Jean would react to waking up in a room by himself. A strange room. At least he wouldn’t be in pain …

When they got down to it, Command weren’t entirely happy with him, but Jeremy was able to talk them around. Honesty was usually the best policy with the eagle-eyed Commanders, and, with some very minor omissions, he clearly hadn’t done anything wrong.

‘I was lacking any orders from Command, and I acted in the best way I saw fit given the situation,’ Jeremy explained, facing down the steely gazes of Command (minus Coach, who didn’t give a fuck either way because Jeremy had brought him his son).

‘It’s not like you to disobey a direct order,’ Rhemann said, frowning. He was referring to Laila’s attempts to bring Jeremy back early. ‘Frankly, if it was anyone but you I’d be taking this a whole lot worse, Jeremy.’

Jeremy lowered his gaze. He was uncomfortable with disobedience, even if he didn’t regret it. He was glad that Laila and Alvarez had been allowed to leave - they’d never let him live down still wanting to please his teachers in an illegal military organisation.

‘I know,’ he said, swallowing. ‘But … with all due respect, you weren’t there. The others couldn’t really get a true sense of what it was like. The fear was … intense. You could smell it in the air. Everyone was a flight risk. They were so conditioned to fear and follow the guards that the slightest disturbance … It might not have taken much at all to completely destroy the momentum. I couldn’t take that chance. It was too important.’

Command sighed and looked at each other and made their reports, but at the end of the meeting Jeremy walked out with a clean record and his position restored. It hadn’t technically ever been taken away from him, but there had definitely been some limbo.

Palmetto comprised of the main university buildings, plus the gym and the three sets of student dorms. There was also an old hockey stadium that they’d repurposed as a meeting hall. Palmetto had a policy of complete transparency, and the hall was used frequently. Jeremy had a feeling they’d be summoned there soon enough. He hoped Jean would be well enough to attend.

Jeremy wanted to go directly to Abby to ask about Jean, but he now had responsibilities again. As the Nest operation had become his little project, he was now in charge of getting everyone settled in emotionally. Most people, he was pleased to see, were taking to the lifestyle very well. It was still a dormitory situation, but almost everyone had given up on the notion of privacy at this stage of the war. Jeremy did the rounds, talking to people, checking the nerves and the few injuries that had been sustained in their mad fight to get out, and thought it was ironic how the one person who didn’t want a room to themselves now had complete privacy.

Jeremy couldn’t help getting caught up in the work. He liked to help, and interacting with people who were so grateful to be out from under the Moriyama yolk. Renee was helping him out; she met him in the cafeteria for a quick meal break and warned him not to check in on Aaron and Katelyn because they definitely didn’t need it.

‘Ah, hormones,’ Jeremy sighed, tucking into his lunch with deep satisfaction. ‘Well, good luck to them. I hope they’re being safe.’

‘I slid some condoms under the door, just in case, but I may have arrived too late.’

Jeremy cracked up, pleased to find that he could still laugh at something immature.

‘Have you been to see Jean yet?’ Renee asked, and Jeremy sobered.

‘Not yet,’ he admitted. ‘Abby told me to take off, and let him sleep. And I had debrief, and then this …’ He trailed off, then ducked his head over his sandwich. ‘I’ll see him soon.’

Renee regarded him quietly. Her face was wonderfully calm, and held no judgment. ‘When was the last time you spoke to him?’

Jeremy smiled humourlessly. ‘Uh, technically? When he was lying on the floor of the cellar at half-way, bleeding out. Before that, when he was telling me to go so he could sacrifice himself to save us.’

Renee sighed. ‘Poor Jean,’ she murmured. ‘I’m sure he’ll need to talk about it.’

‘Yeah, if I can pry Kevin away from Coach I’ll send him over there.’

Renee tapped her fork on the edge of her plate. ‘Maybe you might be the better person for him to speak to,’ she said.

Renee didn’t mince her words. ‘Yeah. Maybe you’re right.’

Jeremy privately thought she _was_ right. He was the best person to speak to Jean, because Jean was calm around Jeremy, not wound up tight and protective and covering up his own feelings, like he was with Kevin and Neil. But it felt presumptuous to say so. He’d only known Jean a few weeks, after all.

They busted their plates and prepared to return to their duties. Jeremy was feeling miles better than he had in the morning; the return to an active routine and Renee’s comfortable friendship had done wonders for him. The night’s sleep in an actual bed and a full belly hadn’t hurt either. He’d go see Jean after he was done, and they’d have a talk, and maybe things would start to get better.

The first person Jeremy ran into was Neil.

‘Abby’s looking for you,’ he said. ‘Jean’s awake.’

Jeremy’s heart flipped. ‘Oh, great. Tell her thanks, if you see her. I’ll be along soon - ’

‘No.’ Neil interrupted him. ‘He’s freaking out. Go there now.’

Jeremy floundered briefly, like a fish, until something jolted through his body and his instincts kicked in.

‘Find Renee, tell her I - I had to go,’ Jeremy said, pushing past Neil.

*

When he arrived in the hallway leading down to the med bay he could hear raised voices. Kevin, and Abby. Kevin sounded scared. Jeremy almost knocked the door off its hinges.

Jean’s room was the last on the left, and Jeremy didn’t immediately see him when he entered. He had to pass Andrew, who was standing outside with his arms folded. Andrew didn’t look at him, but the set to his shoulders was tense, like he was listening. The bed was empty, so his gaze went straight to Kevin, who was standing upright next to the bed with his hands balled into fists. He was pale, and looked stressed.

‘Kevin, please.’ Abby’s voice was lower now, but she looked tense. ‘I swear I didn’t do anything to him. This is a natural response to a traumatic event - ’

‘He has never been like this before!’ Kevin’s hand was shaking as he pointed over towards the far corner.

Jeremy didn’t understand. Trauma or no, Kevin should have been the best person for Jean. The most familiar, the most safe.

Jean was curled up in the corner, his hands over his ears, his eyes shut tight. His body was turned towards the wall, like he was trying to hide himself, and he was shaking badly. Now that Kevin had stopped shouting, Jeremy could hear him whimpering, quietly.

‘Abby,’ Jeremy said, voice hushed and shocked. When she turned to him, he saw she was sporting a red bruise on her cheekbone.

‘Don’t go near him,’ she warned. ‘He’s not adjusting. Once we get things calmed down in here - ‘

‘Kevin, you’re freaking him out,’ Jeremy said quickly, looking at him. He was traumatised and afraid and in pain, and Kevin was his anchor. If Kevin was scared, Jean had nothing to cling to. ‘Just leave, ok?’

Kevin, eyes wide, jabbed his finger at Abby. ’She - ’

‘Abby is a doctor, and she’s going to do the best she can for Jean,’ Jeremy said, firmly, even though his voice was starting to shake. ‘But you have to let her.’

Kevin’s eyes went to Jean again, and Jeremy saw the uncertainty and upset on his face. He really didn’t want to leave Jean, but neither of them knew how to handle this situation.

‘Go out to Andrew,’ said Jeremy, as gently as he could. ‘And I’ll come get you when things are better.’

Kevin went. Jeremy was glad he didn’t have to argue with him.

Abby was frowning. ‘Jeremy, I can’t recommend you go near him.’

Jeremy eyed her. ‘He do that to you?’

Abby nodded. ‘He didn’t know what he was doing,’ she said, quietly. ‘I’ve had worse. Frankly he’s more of a danger to himself.’

Jeremy nodded. ‘Ok. Can I have a minute with him?’

Abby reluctantly agreed to wait outside the door. Jeremy was amazed at her trust him him, because he knew it went against her oath as a doctor to let someone untrained take on the situation. He also really hadn’t wanted to pull rank and order Abby out of the room. Coach would kick his ass. But he’d do it, if he had to.

Jean was in a bad state. Jeremy knelt down a few feet away from him, trying to figure out how best to approach the situation. He was still hooked up to an IV, though he’d knocked it down. Jeremy was relieved he hadn’t started pulling all the needles and wires out of his body, like they did on TV. Jean had never seen an IV before.

‘Jean,’ he said, softly. ‘Jean, it’s ok.’

But Jean didn’t seem to be at home. He was pushing his forehead against the wall and breathing hard. He looked like he was trying to fight something.

‘You don’t need to be scared,’ Jeremy said. ‘It’s ok. You’re safe here, I promise. Remember how I promised you I’d get you out and make you safe? Remember how I told you - that I’d show you a sunrise? Do you still want to see one, a sunrise? Or a sunset?’

He was babbling, but Jean’s breathing was slowing down. Just a little, but Jeremy was watching him very carefully, and he saw it. Even if Jean wasn’t listening to his words, he was hearing his voice.

Jeremy kept talking quietly, just repeating all the same stuff they’d talked about before. He honestly couldn’t remember if they’d talked about sunrises or sunsets, so he talked about both.

Jean finally opened his eyes. He darted a quick, unsure glance at Jeremy that told him he was still half out of his mind, but he recognised him.

‘Can I come over there?’ Jeremy asked, silently begging. ‘Jean, I just want to help you. Do you trust me?’

Jean didn’t respond. Maybe he couldn’t. Feeling out of his depth but desperate to help, Jeremy inched closed. He was ready to topple over backwards if Jean lashed out, but he didn’t. He watched Jeremy very closely until they were nose to nose. Jeremy reached out, very slowly, and touched his face. On paper this was a bad idea, but Jeremy knew Jean. He wasn’t exactly a hugger, but touch had always grounded him.

The second his fingertips met Jean’s cheek, the panic faded from Jean’s eyes. It was like watching a sleepwalker wake up.

‘Hey there.’ Jeremy couldn’t help his smile. The last time he’d seen Jean, he was dying. The time before that ….

‘It’s good to see you, sweetheart,’ he murmured, stroking his cheek with the backs of his fingertips gently.

Jean was slowly coming back to himself. His body shifted slightly, away from the wall and towards Jeremy. His face was battered, and both his eyes were blackened. He looked like he’d been beaten half to death. Something clenched tight in Jeremy’s chest.

‘Jeremy …’ Jean murmured, eyes flickering over him. ‘Where am I?’

Jeremy’s whole body sagged. Jean sounded normal again.

‘You’re safe,’ he said. ‘You’re with me. We got you out. Or, you got yourself out. Do you remember?’

Something in Jean’s expression flickered, turning dark, and Jeremy said quickly, ‘It’s ok, we don’t have to talk about it right now. We do have to get you back into bed, though. You’re still injured.’

Still looking a bit dazed, Jean began to take in his surroundings. He nudged himself closer to Jeremy and looked over at the IV bag and pole lying on the ground. His eyes travelled up the wire to where it was stuck into the back of his hand.

‘Uhhh…’

‘That’s ok,’ Jeremy said quickly. ‘It’s called an IV. Its been keeping you hydrated. Feeding you.’

With some difficulty, he got Jean to his feet. He had lost a good bit of weight in the last few days, but he was still physically very big. Jeremy helped him back into bed, and the effort exhausted the both of them.

‘Your shoulder,’ mumbled Jean, somehow managing to look disapproving even covered in bruises and wearing what looked like someone else’s neon orange pyjama pants.

‘It’s fine,’ Jeremy assured him, though it ached terribly.

Jean gave him a look that clearly said he did not believe him, but he let him be. Jeremy knew this was the point where he was meant to go and get Abby, so she could give Jean something to help him sleep again. But Jean wasn’t looking away from him, and still seemed anxious, so Jeremy planted himself on the edge of the bed, trying to remember how his mother used to sit on his bed when he was sick. It had always made him feel comforted and protected, but it had also been in the familiar surroundings of his own bedroom.

‘Is it being here by yourself that’s strange?’ he asked, quietly.

Jean nodded, and Jeremy’s heart twisted in sympathy.

‘Well, it’s a good thing I don’t have anything else to do today,’ he said lightly, shifting himself into a more comfortable position.

He and Jean knew how to be silent, but there was a lot in the air between them. Jean appeared to be drifting back to sleep, and Jeremy was inclined to let him, but he was worried about letting him pass out without giving Abby some sort of report.

‘Hey, can you talk to Abby for a second?’ he asked quietly, touching Jean’s wrist. ‘Tell her how you’re feeling? She can give you something for the pain.’

Jean was silent for a while, watching him between slitted eyes. Then his fingers responded to Jeremy’s, brushing against him in acknowledgment.

Jeremy poked his head out into the med bay, searching. Abby was perched on the nearest bed, looking like she was sitting in an ant’s nest.

‘Finally,’ she said, shooting up and pushing past him.

‘Easy!’ Jeremy hissed, even though it was redundant. Abby approached with all of her usual care and concern, and Jeremy could see Jean reacting positively to her. His forehead had lost some of the sharp stress lines, and he was responding shyly to her questions. Jeremy lingered by the door, worrying a tear on the cuff of his sweater, and wondered how long he could get away with completely ignoring all of his responsibilities.

Abby scrawled up the best chart she could manage for Jean. He couldn’t do anything for her in terms of allergies and family history, and referred her to Kevin for a few things, saying ‘He’d know better than I’. Jeremy wasn’t sure if he couldn’t remember because of the current trauma, or if he genuinely didn’t know.

‘Ok,’ she said. ‘I’m gonna have to take a chance and hope you aren’t allergic to some of these. I can test a few others on your skin. I’ve never had a patient with zero medical history before, but I guess we’ll just have to make it up as we go along. If I give you something and you start to feel anything that’s not better, you tell me immediately, ok?’

‘Fine, fine.’ Jean looked tired, and like he couldn’t care less about his own treatment.

‘Take an interest, Jean,’ Abby told him, not unkindly. ‘Part of getting better is your own willpower. It’s much easier if you want it.’

Jean didn’t respond, but his eyes flickered to Jeremy.

‘You watch him,’ Abby said, tiredly. ‘I’m going to do some math.’

Jean was staring up at the ceiling, and wouldn’t look at Jeremy when he came to sit down.

‘You ok?’ Jeremy asked, trying not to sound overly concerned.

Jean swallowed. ‘Not great,’ he admitted, thickly.

Jeremy reached out and took the hand that didn’t have the IV in it.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

Jean just blinked a few times in response.

‘It’s ok,’ Jeremy said, quickly. ‘Too soon. Take all the time you need. Just … let me know if things get too dark in there, ok?’

Jean nodded. He still hadn’t looked at him.

‘You saved us,’ Jeremy said, quietly. ‘And I’m sort of furious with you for that. But the general consensus is that you’re a hero.’

‘I’m not.’

Jeremy stroked the back of his hand. His fingernails were dark, and one was cracked. ‘I don’t know if that’s for you to decide,’ he said, with a little smile. ‘I’d be dead if not for you. Laila and Alvarez too. Katelyn, Aaron … Neil and Kevin for sure. You almost died for all of us.’ He sighed. ‘I’m really, really mad at you.’

Jean’s eyes finally swivelled to Jeremy. He was checking. Jeremy gave him a smile, to show him he wasn’t being serious.

Jean hummed in disapproval, but the corner of his mouth twitched. Victorious, Jeremy let himself a relax a little. He could feel exhaustion starting to tug at his corners, and the desire to sink down on the bed beside Jean was strong, and hard to ignore.

‘Did you …’ Jean trailed off in a mumble. His plush bottom lip was torn, and swollen in the corner. Dirt still lined the faint creases in his skin. He swallowed, and tried again. ‘How long has it been?’

Jeremy had to think about it. ‘Two days,’ he said. ‘Or three. I, uh, lost track.’

Renee had found him in the cell. Jeremy hadn’t seen. He hadn’t been there. He couldn’t tell which of Jean’s injuries had come first.

‘Sorry,’ he added. He had no right to be nearly as addled as Jean.

Jean’s hand twitched; he was reaching for him. Jeremy entwined their fingers with a sigh as Jean turned his head towards him.

‘I can’t think right now,’ he said, quietly. His voice was hoarse. Jeremy could hardly look him in the eye. ‘Will you tell me about … something. Anything. Like we used to ... Just until I fall asleep.’

 _Finally_ , Jeremy thought with almost painful relief. _Something I can do._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I'd update every week, but I didn't say what day. Guerilla posting.

Jeremy, to his surprise, was granted something of a reprieve over the next few days. Command had their eye on Jean, and based on Abby’s preliminary reports, they had decided that Jeremy was to play a role in his recovery. Jeremy didn’t know the specifics of Abby’s report, but it was abundantly clear that Jean was miles out of his comfort zone, as well as being in pain and trying to come to terms with everything, and he was clinging to the only touchstones he could find.

Kevin was not the best choice for this; he had his own trauma to deal with, and the added distraction of his father. There was also only so much time Neil and Andrew would give him up for, so Jeremy had very gladly stepped in.

It was clear that, whatever about his current medical status - which was still just shy of critical - Jean was not ready to face very much of anything, let alone strangers. Now that this was relevant to his health, they’d pulled strings to get him into a semi-private space of his own, where he wouldn’t have to face inquiries about whether he’d really killed ten men and the Moriyama boss. About that, Jean wouldn’t talk at all.

But he did need company. Jean was not used to being alone. Kevin always had Andrew or Neil on his arm, and it wasn’t just codependency. Neither of them had any clue how to be alone for any length of time. Jeremy didn’t want to feed the phobia, but it certainly wasn’t something they could do anything about right now.

So, in a peculiar role reversal of their previous situation, Jeremy visited Jean first thing in the morning for a couple of hours, or until Jean fell asleep again, often bringing his breakfast with him. Jeremy was subject to some of the same dining hall stares and whispers. It gave him indigestion.

‘Are you hungry?’ he asked Jean, as he tucked into his slapdash breakfast burrito that didn’t really have enough of anything.

‘No,’ Jean said automatically, though his eyes were fixed on the food. Then he frowned. ‘Yes?’

Jeremy grinned, a little guiltily. Jean was still nil by mouth. ‘I think that’s normal,’ he said, lowering it to his lap, out of Jean’s view. ‘Being fed through a tube isn’t too satisfying, huh? But as soon as Abby clears you I’ll get you something good.’

Jean was still in pretty serious condition, although stable. Jeremy could tell keeping him in bed was going to be difficult. If he hadn’t been constantly exhausted, he’d be fidgeting. Jeremy could see the restlessness in his eyes. As he understood it, veterans of the Nest were no stranger to boredom. But he worried about how much time Jean had on his hands to think about nothing good. His eyes were darting around the small, sparse, curtained off area, searching for something to focus on. His blood volume would be back to normal soon, and he’d have more energy.

Despite Jean’s obvious discomfort, and Jeremy’s own anxiety over him, it was an unbelievable relief to just have him here. Jeremy had to keep reminding himself he was out, and there was so much yet to come.

Sometimes he woke up at night, feeling the touch of fingers wet with blood on his cheek. Jean’s goodbye. Then Jeremy would touch his face and realise they really were wet, with tears.

Jean gave a little sigh, bringing Jeremy back to the present.

‘You have to rest,’ he reminded him, seriously.

‘I know.’ Jean sighed again, then winced.

‘Do you want to talk about anything?’

Jeremy had been trying to get him to talk for a few days now, torn between giving him space and not wanting to let it fester. There was a lot between them now, but Jean didn’t want to talk about any of it.

He shook his head, darting a nervous glance at Jeremy. ‘Not - not now,’ he said, as though they were right in the middle of something.

God, he just wanted to tell him that everything was all right. Jeremy saw shame and fear and guilt burning in Jean’s eyes. Whatever he’d done, he didn’t deserve to feel any of that. But if he wouldn’t talk …

Jeremy did the only thing he could. He reached out and took Jean’s battered, bruised hand, and held it between both of his own. Jean was still not up for hugs, so he chafed his hand gently, trying to warm it up. Jean was always cold.

When Jean looked at him like this, Jeremy was reminded of what he’d said to him on the floor of the wine cellar. _I couldn’tdie there … had to see you again._

Hearing that had broken something inside Jeremy. It was too hard to think about it now, so he shoved it down. He gave Jean a little smile that he hoped wasn’t too honest, and then spoke softly to him about how Kevin and his father were starting to bond, and how much they looked alike, until Jean drifted off to sleep.

*

The reprieve didn’t last long. Jean was still doing a lot of sleeping, which meant the list of tasks longer than Jeremy’s arm had been gratefully returned to him by Laila and Renee, who’d been working his shit along with their own.

‘I’m never speaking with the kitchens again,’ Laila said, flatly. ‘They hate me.’

Most people had revolving work duty - except for the people who could actually make palatable food.

‘Don’t worry, I’ve got it,’ Jeremy replied, dryly. With Command largely occupied with fighting the good fight, someone had to make sure there was toilet paper and running water and food on the table, and something for people to do at the end of the day so they didn’t all end up killing one another. It was the less exciting side of being part of the militia, but it was what they needed from Jeremy right now. They’d never had so many people to take care of before.

His arm was sore today. It had been aching ever since the arduous journey back from the Nest. Jeremy hadn’t mentioned it to Jean, even as a humorous aside, because he knew he’d give him shit for it. Then again, Jeremy mused, maybe that might be a good distraction for him.

That night, when he returned to Jean, tired and looking forward to some light storytelling and maybe hand-holding, he found him flushed and chatty - a total turnaround from the morning, and a pretty severe departure from the Jean he knew and loved.

‘What drugs does she have you on?’ Jeremy asked curiously as he pulled up a chair.

‘None,’ Jean replied, a little too quickly. ‘Something happened today.’

Right away, Jeremy began to mentally prepare himself. He’d been expecting it, of course; the inevitable breakdown or panic about whatever had happened at the end in the Nest. ‘It’s ok,’ he said. ‘You can tell me anything.’

Jean fixed him with his pale, slightly wide eyes. ‘Imet Abby,’ he said. ‘Again. Properly, I mean. I was awake this time, and I didn’t hit her.’

Jeremy raised his eyebrows, not quite believing that Jean wasn’t currently drugged to the gills, but willing to let this play out. ‘Ok, what did she say?’

Jean’s fingers were playing with the blankets in his lap, but his eyes were fixed on Jeremy. His pupils were slightly blown, a dead giveaway.

‘She told me about my injuries. I’m not going to die,’ he said, almost as an aside. ‘Kevin told her about - about me fixing your arm, and stuff.’ He faltered, seeming uncomfortable with mentioning his own achievements. ‘She said that once I’m well, I can work here with her. She told me about all the different things … and … areas ….and stuff. All the things I can do to help. She sounds …’

‘Overwhelmed?’

Jean nodded emphatically. ‘She said she’s really looking forward to getting me back on my feet, so that I can start helping.’

Jean went on about all the other things Abby had said and done, including a detailed, if slightly confused recounting of how she stitched up wounds and set bones and how she’d been very impressed with the scar on Jean’s leg, which he had stitched up himself last year.

Jeremy couldn’t stop smiling. ‘Sounds like she’s already got a very high opinion of you.’

Jean nodded, traces of a real smile around the corners of his tired, bruised mouth. Jeremy thanked god for Abby, and for the wonders that simple praise and appreciation could do for a battered soul.

He told Jean a little about his day, because Jean was already deeply bored by his confinement. Jeremy told him everything he wanted to know, and then added whatever else he could remember just to keep Jean’s eyes fixed on him.

‘And then Laila said she’s not doing kitchen duty anymore, so I have that as well,’ he finished. ‘I don’t know anything about food, so I hope the kitchen guys know what they’re talking about.’

Jean was nodding along, although his eyes were sort of unfocused. ‘Kitchen,’ he echoed, vaguely. ‘Do you think … could there possibly be … any chocolate?’

He practically licked his lips. Jeremy couldn’t see any reason for Jean to be _this_ high; but then again, this was likely his first encounter with serious pain medication.

He smiled, remembering. ‘Just like old times?’ He folded his hand over Jean’s. ‘As soon as you’re eating again, I’ll get you the best chocolate I can find.’

Jean peppered him with questions for a while, mostly about Abby, but many about Renee, of whom he seemed equally impressed. Jeremy was probably repeating himself, using the same little anecdotes and tiny half-stories to make Jean smile, but Jean wasn’t complaining. Stoned or not, it was taking Jean’s mind off everything he’d rather not think about.

After a while, Jean began to wince and slow down. The light went out of his eyes, and he looked up at Jeremy piteously.

‘I’m not feeling good,’ he said. His words dragged.

Jeremy smiled, and reached out for the little button to call Abby. It wasn’t anything as sophisticated as a drug-me-now button, but they worked with what they got.

‘Did they show you this button?’ Jeremy asked Jean, tapping his wrist to get his attention. ‘If you need Abby, or someone to help you, you can press it. It sends her a little message. We’re using old pagers now, it’s all very retro.’

Similar to how they’d interacted back in the boiler room at the Nest, Jean seemed to find comfort in Jeremy’s voice. He had grabbed a hold of Jeremy’s hand and was holding it very tightly, looking around him uncertainly.

‘What were we talking about?’ he asked.

Jeremy smiled, and squeezed his hand gently. ’Don’t worry, Jean. The drugs just wore off, that’s all.’

Jean blinked. ‘Like the ones I gave you, when you hurt your shoulder?’

‘Yeah, like those. Just stronger. You have a lot more pain than I did.’

Jean nodded vaguely. Then his eyes seemed to focus, and he frowned. ‘Your arm. Does it hurt?’

Jeremy shifted. ‘It’s ok.’

‘You’ve been using it. I told you not to.’

‘The work stops for nothing, I’m afraid.’

Jean tsked, sounding more like his old self.

Abby came in shortly after that to administer more of the good stuff, and Jean sank back into his happier state.

‘When can you start weaning him off that?’ Jeremy asked, indicating the vials that Abby was now shutting back into the cabinet. It was keeping him pain-free, but Jean was clearly not himself on the drugs.

‘When his injuries are less severe,’ Abby said, firmly. ‘There are a lot of ribs to mend, and a fever to be kept at bay, and infection to stave off. He has to be kept immobile and calm. I don’t have half the things he really needs.’

‘I’m fine,’ interjected Jean. He actually smiled at her. ‘Could you tell me more about stitching?’

Jeremy left them to it, now that Jean had slipped back into silliness and only had eyes for Abby. He hoped this zest for life would carry over into Jean’s non-inebriated self. It would be very good for him to have something to focus on, to help him find a new normal.

*

A week later, Jean had a meeting with high command. He was now well enough to conduct a conversation without being drugged to the gills, and enough time had apparently passed for him to consent to the conversation at all. Jeremy found all this out second hand, from Laila, as they prepared a bedroom for three new recruits, and found himself getting more than a little angry.

‘They just wanted a report,’ Laila told him, tucking the corners of a bedsheet. ‘They needed to know if Moriyama was still alive, and anything else Jean might be able to tell them. A week off was generous.’

Jean had confessed all to Command, then. He wondered what state that had left him in. Privately, and very ashamedly, he wondered why Jean hadn’t felt comfortable sharing that with Jeremy first. Then again, maybe he hadn’t wanted to share it at all, but had bowed to his instinctive need to obey authority. Jeremy tried to smother his feeling of being left out, and focused instead on his concern for Jean. Laila snapped at him that they’d have to make every bed twice over if he didn’t snap out of it.

When he saw him again, Jean appeared much changed. He seemed calmer, for one thing, and without the haze of drugs or pain clouding his expression. There was a quietness to him, too, that felt more like the Jean that Jeremy had come to know.

‘How are you feeling?’ Jeremy asked, as usual.

Instead of his own usual ‘Fine’, Jean considered him.

‘Do you want to know what happened?’ he asked, softly, effectively stopped Jeremy in his tracks.

‘What?’

‘You know I met with your commanders,’ Jean said, steadily. ‘I had to tell them what happened. Don’t you want to know?’

Jeremy had been considering his answer all day. As he took his seat, he was suddenly lost for words.

‘It’s yours to tell,’ he said, slowly. ‘Or not. I’m sorry that you were forced to - but you know why they - ‘

‘I know,’ Jean interrupted. ‘They explained why it was important. And … it’s not something I want to keep to myself. It’s like what you said about nightmares.’

Jeremy’s heart softened. ‘Right,’ he murmured. ‘So, it helped then?’

Jean lifted one shoulder. ‘I think it … loosened something. Feels bad. I’ve been hoping that maybe, if I talked to you about it …’

Surprised and pleased, Jeremy didn’t really know what to say to that.

‘I’m happy to help,’ he replied, lamely.

Jean nodded, but didn’t say anything further. Wondering if it was his turn to contribute to this idea, Jeremy reached out and took his hand.

They hadn’t been close since that night in the Nest. Jeremy couldn’t have blamed Jean for wanting to forget everything associated with that place, but he did seem to retain a fondness for Jeremy. So, maybe all was not lost. The ache Jeremy had been feeling in his chest all week loosened slightly as Jean smoothed his thumb over Jeremy hand.

‘You can tell me anything, Jean,’ he said, with more strength in his words. Jean nodded, but didn’t look convinced.

‘What if it changes what you think of me?’ he asked. ‘What if it’s … bad?’

Jeremy restrained himself from telling Jean he didn’t care about any of that. Jean needed something real.

‘We all do bad things,’ he said, quietly. ‘When we’re forced into bad situations. Whatever you had to do … you did it because you had no choice.’

‘I did have a choice,’ Jean said, softly.

‘Choosing between living and dying is no choice at all,’ Jeremy said, firmly. About that, at least, he was absolutely sure. ‘It’s the people who put you in that position who are to blame. Ok?’

Jean was still for a moment. But he finally nodded.

‘It’s not your fault,’ Jeremy said, softly. ‘Whatever happened … whatever you had to do, it’s not your fault.’

Jean stared at him for a long time. His eyes grew bright, but his expression did not change.

‘I killed them all,’ he said.It was easy, not brave.’

Jeremy had suspected the words were coming, but it was still strange and confusing to hear them coming from Jean’s mouth. He nodded, trying to keep his expression neutral.

‘It is … very hard, to have the memories in my head,’ Jean said, with difficulty.

Jeremy leaned forward. ‘Share them with me,’ he urged. It will help.’

The air felt disrupted by the strange sentences coming from Jean’s mouth, describing how he’d used Laila’s gun on the guards, unawares, as their backs were turned. He was a quick shot, apparently. How he missed the last guard and ran out of bullets, and had to kill him with his bare hands, but not before he’d suffered his injuries. How Riko came at him, murder and derision in his eyes. What cruelty and arrogance, Jeremy thought, to be facing a man you have beaten down and smothered so completely his entire life, and still want to do more harm to him.

Jean had already said he had no bullets left in his gun. Now, he looked down at this hands, as though he could still see the marks of violence on them. One was still curled in Jeremy’s, so Jeremy took the other, too, to help dispel the image that was making Jean’s brow crease and his mouth tremble.

‘He was a vicious man,’ Jean said, a trace of a croak in his voice. ‘But he was smaller than I thought he would be, once I had him in my hands. I never imagined it like that. So … breakable.’

The words didn’t sound like Jean’s, and his mouth twisted like they tasted bad coming out. His hands had begun to tremble, so Jeremy held them a little tighter.

‘He would have come after us,’ Jeremy said, quietly.

‘I could have knocked him out.’

Jeremy smiled, sadly. ‘After everything he’s done to you.’

Jean’s face tightened. ‘I never thought I was that kind of person.’

Jeremy wished he knew what words Jean needed to hear. ‘He would never have stopped hunting you, or Kevin. You _know_ that. It needed to end. I’m just sorry you had to be the one to end it.’

‘I took lives,’ Jean said. ‘After spending my whole life thinking mine had been taken from me. I had no right.’

Jeremy nodded slowly, considering this.

‘Maybe so,’ he said. ‘I’m not so sure what you did to them is equal to what was done to you - in fact, I think they deserved a lot worse. But if you feel something is owed, then stay with us. Work with Abby. Save more lives than you took.’

He waited, eyes down on Jean’s hand to stop him seeing the desperation in his eyes.

‘Ok,’ Jean said, after long minutes of silence that Jeremy thought would never end. ‘Ok.’

Another week, and Jean was back on his feet. By then, rumours about him had travelled their full life cycle to the point where there were mainly two schools of thought. The first was that Kevin, Neil, and especially Jean, were John Wick-types with dark pasts and mysterious, elite skills. The other involved words like “cult” and “hermit” and “folie a deux”. Jeremy wasn’t pleased with either version, and hoped none of it made its way back to Jean.

Jeremy hadn’t been asked to do any runs yet - forage or otherwise - and he was keen to keep it that way. Jeremy hadn’t realised how the last few weeks and months had shaken a core part of himself loose. Wandering the expansive, cluttered, bustling halls of Palmetto, even working as hard as he was, settled it right back down inside himself.

And now, knowing that Jean was on the loose in here with him, Jeremy found an additional spring in his step each morning when he got out of bed.

After Jean’s first day officially under Abby’s tutelage, Jeremy could hardly wait to get to the dining hall to talk to him about it. But when he got there, he found Jean absent. A quick word with Laila, who knew where everyone was at all times, let him know that Jean was still in the med bay. She didn’t know if it was work or medical necessity that kept him there.

Jeremy didn’t bother with food. The sudden anxiety in his stomach made it impossible to eat. He went straight down to the med bay, ignoring friends who passed him, rubbing their own hungry tummies and cheerfully telling him he was going the wrong way.

When he arrived, he found Jean sitting up on an exam table, shirt off, blood leaking from a jagged line on his side. Abby threw him an exasperated look and said, ‘Don’t worry, he’s fine.’

‘Stitches,’ Jean explained, his voice quiet. Jeremy looked at him quickly, but didn’t find what he’d been expecting. Jean appeared relaxed, comfortable even, despite the injury that was obviously hurting him.

‘Good first day?’ he asked, swallowing hard over the brief panic that had flared inside him.

Jean seemed to hear it anyways. ‘Yes,’ he said. He gave Jeremy a very gentle smile, and Jeremy realised, all of a sudden, that he was totally fucking done for.

He sat on the other side of the exam table, his back resting against Jean’s, trying to calm down. Looking directly at Jean was a big ask right now.

‘So,’ he said, quietly, trying to affect a teasing tone and not quite managing it. ‘Tell me about it.’

Abby resumed her work on Jean’s side, stitching up what had torn. Jeremy felt Jean’s body tense slightly against his back, but otherwise he didn’t react.

‘It was a good day,’ he said, still with that same calmness. ‘There are many things to learn, but … it’s exciting.’

‘It’s his calling,’ Abby said, smiling over Jean’s shoulder. ‘He’s a natural, for sure. Jean, you’re going to really make a difference here.’

Jean tilted his head back slightly, towards Jeremy. ‘She says that a lot,’ he murmured, loud enough for Abby to hear. Abby laughed, and Jeremy felt Jean huff a laugh of his own in return. They already had a bond, a shared joke. Jeremy’s heart swelled three sizes.

‘Did Renee stop by?’ he asked.

‘Just for a minute’ Jean replied. ‘She was heading out to look for food, she said.’

‘That’s right,’ Jeremy remembered. On another day, he would have been going with her. ‘She’ll be back in a few days. You like her, too?’

Jean nodded. ‘She is nice to be around,’ he said. ‘And she saved me. I owe her.’

Abby made a noise of disgruntlement, and Jeremy shook his head. ‘You don’t, Jean. She didn’t do it for a return favour, remember?’

Jean cleared his throat. ‘Right … I know. Still.’

Jeremy let it slide. They were all still adjusting.

Jean told him a little bit more about his day. Even when Abby left them, they continued sitting back to back. Jean was leaning on him a little, and Jeremy felt it as warmth deep in his bones.

‘What did you do today?’ he asked, softly.

Jeremy smiled. ‘Same as every other day. Ran laps around this place trying to get it straightened out. I swear they rearranged the corridors while I was gone.’

‘How is your shoulder today?’

Jeremy smirked, and nudged Jean with said shoulder. ‘Doing just fine, thank you.’

Jean nudged him back with a little murmur. Jeremy realised this was one of the first quiet moments they’d had together, where Jeremy wasn’t rushing off and Jean wasn’t squirming in a hospital bed. Not since that night, back in the Nest. In their little boiler room, full of quiet and privacy and things unsaid.

Jean seemed to read his mind. He reached out and took Jeremy’s hand, tugging another smile across Jeremy’s face. He tilted his head back slightly, leaning it against Jean’s.

‘I’m so glad you’re doing better,’ he said, quietly.

‘Me too,’ Jean said. After a moment, he added, ‘I know you said I don’t owe anyone … but in my heart, I feel that I owe you my life. More than that, even,’ he went on, when Jeremy began to protest. ‘You saved my life, and then gave me a new one like it was nothing.’

Jean shifted around with a little difficulty, given the fresh stitches in his side. Jeremy turned too, so that they were both half perched on the end of the exam table, facing forward. Their thighs were pressed together; Jean was still shirtless, and his arms were lightly pebbled with gooseflesh.

‘I don’t know how this new life will be,’ Jean said. His voice was low, and so deep Jeremy thought he could feel it against his skin. His head was tilted towards Jeremy again, though they were not quite looking at each other.

‘But I hope,’ he went on, ‘that we can still find time for this. Like how we used to.’

Jeremy’s heart fluttered, and for a moment he couldn’t speak. He finally managed a nod, and a squeeze of Jean’s hand.

‘Yes,’ he said, voice almost a whisper. ‘I’ve been thinking the same thing. I’ve really missed you, Jean.’

‘I’ve missed you, too.’ Jean made a tiny noise of amusement. ‘It was a very strange.’

Jeremy laughed with him, and in quick rush of affection that made him feel both silly and brave, he rested his head on Jean’s shoulder. To his delight, Jean instantly responded. He turned his own head so that his mouth brushed Jeremy’s forehead.

Despite the fact that they had already shared one night of intimacy, it felt like a new beginning for the two of them. Although, all Jeremy had to do was cast his mind back to that night, that first heated kiss and shaking touch as Jean declared himself, and he would feel himself go hot all over.

They worked different schedules over the next few days, with Jeremy finding himself being sent all over the property to put out fires. Wymack was putting him in charge of larger groups of people, counting on him to whip people into shape and settle nerves. There was talk of being too close to the battlefront - there always was - and of having to pack up and run in the night, but although those fears were unfounded, they were causing some damage, especially to the new recruits.

Jeremy liked being busy, but he was hoping it would settle down soon so that he might be able to spend some time with his friends - and Jean. Mostly Jean. He saw his friends around, worked closely with half of them and saw the other half for lunch every day or so. But Jeremy didn’t want just a few conversations with Jean. He wanted real time with him. Strange and slightly unreal though their time together at the Nest had been, Jeremy could feel himself approaching pining territory. He worried he’d start to become insufferable soon if he didn’t kiss Jean again. If Jean wanted to, that was. God, Jeremy hoped he wanted to.


	3. Chapter 3

Life at Palmetto chugged on, sometimes at breakneck pace. Jeremy’s schedule kept him indoors, mostly, but it also continued to clash badly with Jean’s - for Jean did have a work schedule now. Jeremy had been slightly anxious about how Jean would feel about coming under someone else’s yolk again, but there wasn’t a whole lot he could do about it. He braced himself to be there for Jean, for the breakdown that he was _sure_ had to be coming.

But it seemed as though his fears were unfounded. Renee told Jeremy that Jean was so talented that Abby was letting him do half her work by himself, already - after just a couple of weeks back on his feet?

‘She said it’s completely intuitive to him,’ Renee informed him, as they did inventory in one of the smaller supplies room - once an English classroom. ‘She only has to tell him something once and he remembers, and he never makes a mistake twice.’

And Laila, too, was full of praise. ‘He was so close to wasting all that potential,’ she told him, while they were waiting for some leftovers to be heated up by a kindly man in the kitchen who didn’t mind staying late. Dinner time was long past, but they had been on a special detail with Rhemann all day - basically just being sounding boards for his mad ideas - and they hadn’t eaten since morning. ‘And he’s not the only one, either. Neil has a real head for numbers and planning. He’s practically running the logistics division with Coach now, while Kevin makes moon eyes at both of them.’

Jeremy snorted, but felt a brief flicker of concern despite her words. Of the three of them, Kevin seemed to be the only one having trouble assimilating. Whatever physical torture the Moriyamas had inflected on Jean, it seemed to have been all psychological with Kevin. But he had Neil and Andrew propping him up, and Renee’s gang seemed to be trying to take him under their wing. They loved a hopeless case almost as much as they loved Coach.

Jean and Kevin had been skirting each other ever since Jean had been cleared to work. Kevin had been making almost daily trips there on account of his hand, which wasn’t healing as quickly as he wanted. They would talk, quietly, and not about anything Jeremy felt they _should_ be talking about, but it seemed to calm them. Jeremy preferred to leave them to it. It was ostensibly to give them privacy, but really he felt like an intruder in these moments.

‘I wondered if it would be different now,’ Jean mused quietly one evening. He was slowly putting away the charts for the day, and Jeremy enjoyed watching him work slowly, methodically, and largely pain-free.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked, swinging his legs from the examination table.

Jean shrugged. ‘We don’t talk about any of the same things anymore,’ he explained. ‘It’s all … new. I don’t really know if he likes it or not.’

Being injured probably didn’t help that. Neil hadn’t let any of his horrific cuts and burns stop him for a second - in fact, they seemed to have galvanised him in some way, though Jeremy would leave the figuring out of that to someone else - but Kevin was really struggling with the loss of his dominant hand, temporary though it may be.

Jean’s words did make Jeremy wonder if either of them would get any joy from the relationship now, going forward. Theirs had deep, traumatic roots, but in practicality it seemed to have been one build on desperation and survival instinct. It was possible that they were now realising that they didn’t have a single thing in common to keep them coming back to each other.

It wasn’t a charitable thought. But every day at lunch (when Jeremy actually made it to the dining hall at the same time as everyone else) he saw Jean sitting at the same table with Kevin, Neil, and Andrew, and each looked as miserable as each other.

‘I thought you two were like …?’ Alvarez trailed off, then made an obscene gesture.

‘Shut up,’ Jeremy said, tiredly feeding himself soup.

Sometimes, he would try to catch Jean’s eye, if the opportunity arose. He occasionally saw him coming into the dining hall, before he’d grabbed his food. Jean usually looked around the hall first, a look of barely-concealed anxiety on his face. Kevin and the others always sat at the same table, but it didn’t stop Jean from giving the place a once-over. Jeremy would sit up a little straighter, trying to get his attention, or beckon him over. Once, he swore Jean really did notice him. But he always made is way to the corner, table number 5, the monsters, and sat in what looked like gloomy silence until the meal was over. Kevin, his hand wrapped in bandages, Neil, scarred and silent, and Andrew, who looked foreboding even in his sleep, probably. Jeremy wasn’t often intimidated, but it was enough that he didn’t want to approach the table.

‘Maybe he’s just being loyal,’ Laila suggested, in a rare bout of sympathy for him. ‘Or, like, uncomfortable being around so many new people.’

It was true, Jeremy was usually at one of the more boisterous tables; he should have realised that it would put Jean off.

So he tried a new tactic, and started holding off on choosing a seat until Jean actually arrived, so that he might suggest sitting together at an empty table. But this proved impossible to orchestrate; either Jean arrived before Jeremy did, or so long after that Jeremy was chivvied to a seat by a friend who was concerned he wasn’t eating enough these days.

After several disappointing days of launch failure, Jeremy was fed up with both himself and the entire situation. Upon arriving for lunch, he took his seat and left his eyes fixed firmly on the door. People squeezed in beside him and chattered loudly over the scrape of seats and cutlery on plates, but Jeremy let nothing distract him. When Jean finally arrived, Jeremy was out of his chair before Jean’s eyes had had time to scan the whole room.

Sandwich and cup in hand, Jeremy struggled to reach the top of the dining hall in once piece. Between avoiding people, and chairs pushed out, and table edges, he made it to the top just as Jean had collected his cup of soup and piece of fruit and was starting to move in his usual direction.

‘Jean.’

It startled him, of course; Jeremy should have realised. He turned toward him with a wide-eyed gaze, but relaxed as soon as he saw who was calling.

‘Hey.’

Jean didn’t move, but his face looked hopeful. ‘Hello,’ he returned, quietly.

In the bustling hall it was hard to make out his words exactly, soft-spoken as they were, so Jeremy focused on Jean’s mouth. ‘You haven’t eaten yet?’

He shook his head. ‘No. Actually, I was wondering if you would sit with me today.’

Jean cast his eyes over Jeremy’s shoulder, apprehensive. ‘At your table?’

‘No.’ Jeremy had already thought this through. Empty tables were thin on the ground here. ‘And not here, either. I know somewhere. Will you come?’

Jean didn’t need convincing. Five minutes later, they were sitting across from one another on the big window ledge that over looked Palmetto courtyard. It was a draughty spot, but also private. Jean was used to the cold, and Jeremy hoped he wouldn’t mind suffering it on his lunch break.

‘So, how are things going?’ he asked, once they’d gotten a few mouthfuls of lunch into them.

Jean shrugged. ‘Good,’ he said. But his tone was positive. ‘It’s good work. I’m tired, but … I feel well.’ He paused, then added, ‘I’m sleeping through the night now.’

Jean shared a room with Kevin and Neil. There had never been any suggestion of them sleeping apart. Jeremy was dying to know how that was going, given Kevin and Neil’s entanglement, but thought that was a conversation best saved for when they had had a few drinks.

‘That’s good,’ he said, instead. ‘That’s awesome, man. It’s something special to be doing a job that you love. Even before all of this, it was rare.’

Jean nodded. ‘It doesn’t feel real, sometimes.’

‘But you’re happy? I mean … not just in your work?’

He’d been desperate to know. He knew he’d done the right thing, but Jean had had so many misgivings about being out in the world.

Jean nodded. He held his cup of soup in his hands - clean hands, with no blood or dirt under the nails. No fresh bruises or cuts on his face. He still held himself a little stiffly - a near-death battering will do that to a body - but now he had colour in his cheeks and a little extra meat on his bones from all the protein he was finally being allowed to eat. Jean was growing up big and strong.

‘I am … happy,’ he said, slowly, considering his words. ‘Happier. It’s still hard, sometimes. I get dizzy …’ He paused, thinking for a minute. ‘Sometimes it’s like I’m not really here, or that I’m dreaming it. But I just stop, and let it pass … and it usually does. It’s nice having people around to pull you out of it.’ Jean looked up at him, and Jeremy saw, with a start, a gleam of real life shining in his pale grey eyes.

‘I’m glad you asked me to eat with you today.’

‘I’d do it every day, if I could,’ Jeremy said in a rush, leaving forward. ‘Sometimes I just don’t get here on time, or at all - ’

‘I know,’ Jean said, quickly. ‘It’s fine, I understand. Honestly, I worry about Kevin. It makes me kind of anxious not seeing him every day. I just want to make sure …’

Jeremy knew how he felt. Not everyone assimilated well. Jean and Kevin had more to figure out than anyone else. Being at Palmetto wasn’t exactly the same as being set loose in a metropolis - at least here there was routine and care and Jean didn’t have to be exposed to taxes - but neither of them had known any other life.

‘He’ll be ok,’ Jeremy said softly. ‘We’ll work something out …’

They ate a little more in silence. Jean’s appetite was still low; Jeremy had a feeling Abby was monitoring his meal times closely.

When he’d eaten all he could force down past the words building inside his chest, Jeremy spoke up again.

‘I made you a lot of promises,’ he said. ‘Back there, when we were … together.I said I’d show you things, but I haven’t been around at all. I’m sorry, Jean. I feel like I’ve let you done.’

Jean was watching him carefully.‘It’s ok,’ he said. But Jeremy wasn’t ready to be consoled yet.

‘It’s not,’ he insisted. ‘Will you let me explain?’

Jean just watched him, and Jeremy took that as a sign to go on.

‘I think I was just so relieved to be back and in control of my own life again that I just threw myself into it,’ he said, stumbling over his words. ‘I forgot. Or, I let myself forget. But things are starting to settle now, so … if you’d like, we could maybe start to .. I dunno - see each other?’

Jean frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

Jeremy made shapes with his hands as he tried to find a way to say it in accessible language that also wouldn’t sound incredibly stupid and vulnerable. ‘We could, like, hang out,’ he tried. ‘Maybe like for an hour or two in the evenings, if you’re not tired? We could just …’

‘What?’ prompted Jean quickly. His food lay forgotten.

Jeremy hesitated. ‘Talk,’ he said, slowly. ‘Just, be together. And we could explore Palmetto, too. I know where they keep all the books and old stuff they couldn’t sell or eat or burn. I could show you a little of what it used to be like here, as a school.’ He paused, then sighed, because it wasn’t coming out right, and he figure there was no point in being coy anymore. ‘I just want to spend time with you, Jean. I think about you all the time.’

It was more than he’d intended to say back in the dining hall. It was way more than he’d ever been thinking of saying when he lay awake at night, fretting. Jean was sitting up a little straighter.

‘I mean, I think we had something really great, or we could have,’ Jeremy ploughed on, fully committed to humiliating himself now. ‘And maybe it was just a product of the situation, but - ‘

‘I didn’t think you would have time for me like that,’ Jean said, surprising him. ‘When I saw how many friends you have here … I was sure that one of them would be more special to you than I was.’

He flushed as he said it. Jean’s expression was usually fairly unreadable, but Jeremy thought he knew hope when he saw it.

‘No,’ he said, quietly. ‘It’s just you.’

They let that sit in silence between them for a moment. Then Jean smiled - that rare, real smile of his - and Jeremy was powerless to resist him. Shoving his lunch aside, he shuffled across the windowsill. Jean reached out and took his hands.

‘This is the only thing that’s the same here,’ he said, squeezing Jeremy’s hands. ‘This makes me feel normal, and good. You.’

Jeremy leaned in, and Jean met him halfway. Kissing Jean was like finally letting go of something painful. It brought a swell of happiness and fierce excitement that burned Jeremy’s skin.

It was short, just a sweet press of their lips. Jean pulled back just slightly, breathing hard, and leaned his forehead against Jeremy’s.

‘I want time with you,’ he murmured. ‘More than anything.’

Jeremy’s heart ached. ‘You can have as much time as you want,’ he said, even as he wondered how exactly he was going to keep that promise.

Jean found himself back in a routine, but one that was a million miles away from the one he’d known before. Besides the work and learning how to read and getting used to not asking Abby for permission every time he needed to use the bathroom, there were suddenly all these people who considered themselves Jean’s friends. Just a few, but it was enough to keep him too distracted to dwell on why his ribs still ached and why Kevin’s arm was still in a sling.

Ever since she’d pulled him out of the cell, Renee had been something of an inspiration to Jean. She was so small, yet so strong, and her words always had meaning.

After a few shy conversations with her, she’d begun telling him a little bit about herself over a few shared breakfasts of warm bread and fruit in the corridor next to the med bay. Renee liked to work night shifts, and one morning she had brought Jean breakfast before her pre-bedtime jog around the building.

It turned out that before she’d found religion and teaching - foreign concepts to Jean - Renee had had a hard, violent upbringing. They compared scars, and Renee shared a few of her less grisly stories. Jean wasn’t quite able to reciprocate but he did a lot of nodding, and at the end of it all he managed to gulp something out about thanking her for saving him. She had smiled warmly at him, and a friendship was born.

Abby had begun teaching him to read. It wasn’t the same type of lessons that Jeremy swore they’d get around to, but Abby said he couldn’t be handling labelled medications with any confidence without knowing what they said, let alone being able to read patient charts and her notes. There was nothing major going on in the med bay at the moment, just some coughs and colds and one case of chickenpox, which Jean remembered having when he was a child. Abby, to his amusement, had to let him handle that one on his own, and she’d never had it before.

‘Nothing doing,’ she’d told him, shaking her head. ‘Just has to run its course. Find the camomile lotion.’

Learning to read was hard, even though Jean had a feeling they hadn’t even reached the hard parts yet. He could remember most words once he’d learned them and could sound them out, but some letters simply didn’t behave the way he expected them to. Even his own name threw up problems; from what he understood, it should have been pronounced _jeen_ in English.

‘It’s French,’ Katelyn laughed, when he told her of his difficulties. ‘Different rules.’ She’d stopped by and complained she hadn’t seen him since he was still doped up and horizontal. She herself looked tan and fit and a million times better than she’d ever looked in the time he’d known her.

Jean had a hard time grappling with all these rules, especially when the French he knew and spoke was invisible to him - no one at Palmetto seemed to have had any instruction in it.

Even so, Jean was happier than he’d ever been. ‘What have you been up to?’ he asked Katelyn, carefully sorting the little bottles of medicine and pills into line, concentrating on the labels to make sure everything was in its proper place.

Katelyn grinned. ’Settling in,’ she said. ‘But not for long. Aaron’s been getting me all trained up and ready to go back out again.’

Jean blinked. ’Back out?’

Katelyn nodded, eagerly. She was practically skipping around the med bay, showing more energy than Jean thought he’d ever possessed in his life. ‘I want to do what Jeremy does,’ she explained. ‘Or, what he used to do. You know, that tunnel crawl didn’t bother me one bit - I never really knew how claustrophobic I was, but it turns out I’m not at all. So I want to get back out there and find more people. That’s kind of what I was doing before, as a journalist, but I’d never managed to join up with any kind of Militia.’

She sounded so enthused and excited that Jean thought for a moment he was misunderstanding. ‘I see,’ he said, slowly, processing that. Rather than comment further on that madness, and to avoid thinking about Jeremy doing anything like that ever again - which had not occurred to Jean as a possibility until right this second - Jean held out a bottle of tablets to her. The label was peeling and the writing faint. ‘What does this say?’

Katelyn took the bottle, gave him one quick, curious look, then read the label. ‘It’s just paracetamol,’ she said.

Jean tksed, and took it back from her. It was in the wrong spot, as most of these bottles were. He looked carefully at the label, running his finger over the name. He’d read that one before, and should have been able to sound it out correctly. But Katelyn’s words had thrown him off slightly.

‘Where did these books come from?’ Katelyn asked curiously, catching her eye on the small pile of books that Jeremy had dredged up the first week that Jean had been largely unconscious. They were unopened, but Jean had taken to leaving around the place so that he didn’t forget about them.

Jean hesitated. He knew that Katelyn was smart, and most likely knew how to read very well.

‘I’m going to learn how to read them,’ Jean said, carefully. ‘Jeremy said … I mean, we used to talk about it a lot. It seems that there’s a lot I don’t know about the world,’ he finished, wryly.

Katelyn smiled, leafing through the top one. ‘Well, you’ll certainly get your fill from this one,’ she commented. ‘ _World Encyclopedia …_ Oh, it’s a recent publication too. That means nothing will be out of date.’ Then she paused, and rolled her eyes. ‘Well, up until this whole thing started.’

Jean had little interest in the war that was going on outside, only so far as it concerned him directly. The long and short of it seemed to be that people wanted everybody in the country to live a certain way, a bad way, and the people were fighting to live their own way. Freedom, Jeremy called it. Jean considered them fairly free as it was, but clearly he was no proper judge of this.

‘If you want, I can help you,’ Katelyn said, suddenly. ‘I took a course on how to teach English to non-English speakers. It was a few years ago, but I remember the basics.’

Jean blinked. ‘Are you sure?’

Katelyn nodded eagerly. ‘It’ll give us a chance to hang out,’ she said. ‘I don’t know if we’ve ever had a proper conversation, Jean.’

Jean wasn’t sure either, but he was too happy to wonder.

Suddenly, he had a whole host of people trying to spend time with him. The reading lessons began in earnest, and although Jeremy still turned up almost every night, sometimes he’d had such a long day that he could barely function. No matter how many times Jean told him to go to bed, he would be so insistant on seeing Jean that he often dozed off on his shoulder. Jean counted these evenings as wins, with Jeremy’s head resting on his shoulder, the soft weight and smell of him more comforting than anything he’d known before.

And that now included Kevin, which was so strange as to be unsettling. Kevin had, for all of his life, been the _only_ comfort Jean knew. But now there seemed to be a great deal of disturbed peace between them. Kevin had pretty much said he was furious with Jean for staying behind and almost getting himself killed, but Jean knew he was mainly rattled over Jean killing Riko. There was a whole pile of knots that they would have to work to untangle, but for now it was easier to ignore both Kevin and Neil, and leave them to Andrew, who seemed far more capable at handling the pair of them. Jean had plenty of other things to keep himself occupied with.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a few days late, sorry!!

The nice thing about seeing Jeremy was that Jean was extraordinarily happy whenever they were together. They had spent a ridiculous few weeks being coy and pretending they were too busy to actually talk to each other, but now they were “seizing the day” according to Jeremy.

The downside to this was, of course, that Jean had less time for Kevin. Guiltily, he wondered if that was such a bad thing.

Kevin was almost totally preoccupied with his father, and the war effort. They were as obsessed with each other, and Neil scarcely less so.

‘We’re making really good advanced in the south,’ Kevin said one evening over dinner. His eyes were bright with fervor. ‘Coach thinks we could retake a city or two.’

‘We need more guns,’ Neil put in, who was shovelling down more food than Jean thought was humanly possible.

‘Why don’t you call him Dad?’ Jean asked, just to change the subject from guns and fighting.

Kevin and Neil both looked at him like he’d just asked why they didn’t replace the guns with fluffy pillows. Andrew, sitting on Kevin’s other side, actually chuckled.

‘You’re such an idiot,’ he said, conversationally.

Jean eyed him coolly. ‘Which one are you again?’

‘No,’ Neil said, as Andrew opened his mouth.

Jean just watched Kevin with amusement, but nothing more was forthcoming so he decided to drop it. Kevin and Neil returned to their discussion, needing no one’s input, and Jean went back to his soup. One meal a day with this lot was definitely enough, but he hadn’t quite worked up the nerve to sit with Jeremy’s gang; the loudest by far in the whole room.

Summer was gradually turning into fall. It was growing colder by the day, but no one else seemed to feel it like Jean did. Although, that was one thing he definitely had in common with Kevin still.

‘The state of these,’ Abby said critically, inspecting his fingers. Jean thought for a moment she meant the badly-healed breaks, but then she turned his hands over and pressed her rough thumbs to his equally rough palms. ‘Dry as a bone. Look, it’s all peeling.’

Jean just shrugged. ‘And?’

‘It’s the weather,’ Abby said, letting him go. ‘You must have sensitive skin. Here, put this on twice a day. No excuses. I want to see skin as smooth as a baby’s ass in two weeks.’

Jean took the tube of cream, bemused. ‘But they’re fine,’ he said.

Abby arched an eyebrow. ‘Do they itch? Feel tight?’

Didn’t everyone’s?

Abby rolled her eyes. ‘I can tell from your face that this is news to you, but life doesn’t have to be so hard,’ she said. ‘Use it sparingly - god knows when I’ll get more. I had to give the other one to your brother. His were as bad.’

Jean pocketed the little tube with a flicker of warmth in his chest for Kevin.

Jeremy, too, was absurdly concerned with all things chapped and dry. ‘I did a semester in Waterloo while I was in college,’ he said, darkly. ‘Your lips can literally crack and bleed during their winter. Please use this!’

He pressed a small tube of chapstick into Jean’s hands. Jean wasn’t unfamiliar with this - it was among the most highly requested items back in their smuggling days - but he’d never considered using one himself. However, as he dutifully applied it over the next few days, he had to admit that there were some perks to softening yourself up.

For one thing, it made kissing Jeremy that much more enjoyable. Jeremy, who seemed to be always soft and warm and pliable in his arms, was a great believer in comfort. ‘There’s not as much of it to go around these days,’ he said quietly, in one of their stolen afternoon moments. He picked up Jean’s hand and kissed the back of it, and then pressed it to his cheek. ‘Gotta take it wherever we can find it.’

Work was intense. Sometimes, Jean lay down at night, bone tired with Jeremy’s scent still on his skin, but he simply could not turn his brain off.

People came in every day with cuts and sprains and random illnesses, and Jean wished so much that he could write worth a damn so he could take notes. Abby had an ongoing and endless list of medicines and drugs that she needed, and she was constantly circulating this as best she could. Every time she added something, she gave Jean a long talk on what it was used for. Jean ate it up; sometimes Abby went hoarse because he couldn’t stop asking her questions, and she was scarcely less eager to answer him.

‘The sooner you can take notes, the better,’ she said one evening, after a long discussion about heart medication. ‘Though maybe you’re one of those people who can just store it all in their heads.’

Abby took copious notes. She said that everything you did needed to be documented, because memories couldn’t always be relied upon. Jean saw the wisdom in this, but he could only work with what he had.

There was something addictive about laying hands on a person and easing their pain, or making something snap back together.

‘You’re very calm’, one man said, his eyes wide, in and out of shock as Jean picked broken glass out of a gaping wound in his arm.

Jean had done this before, but this time he had ample lighting and sterile equipment and wasn’t afraid of being caught and slapped about by the guards. So it was a lot easier to be calm. Jean didn’t like to tell him he’d seen far worse, so he just shrugged. ‘Stay still.’

Then there were his other lessons, which happened at random, whenever one of his teachers could spare the time.

Renee was a very good and gentle teacher. She repeated things as often as Jean needed her to, and although he felt absurd reading out such basic sentences as “See Jane Run”, she never made him feel that way.

‘Everyone has to start at the beginning,’ she said. ‘No matter how old they are. There’s only one way to begin.’

The books were all very old and worn, but Jean kind of liked that. Jeremy had rescued them from an old bin in the library, and they bore the marks of many hands - probably children’s hands, of whom he knew next to nothing, only that they were small humans - and many minds who had gone before him, learning and reading and figuring it all out. If they could do it, so could he.

Katelyn was more prone to chatting, but she also made Jean laugh, so that was ok. She punctuated their lessons with stories from her life, which Jean ate up. She had reported the news for a living, which mean lots of writing. She showed him the best way to hold a pen, and introduced him to the horrible world of grammar.

‘Don’t worry, everyone hates it,’ she told him with a grim smile. ‘Most people who grow up speaking English have no clue about it.’

To Jean’s surprise, learning to read and write was another enjoyable challenge, one that he was not being forced to undertake. It may have been the simple fact of having a choice that made it so pleasurable. One evening Renee came by, but Jean was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open.

‘Sorry, I’m sorry,’ he said, mortified, as he realised he had been nodding off while she was speaking. ‘Can you repeat that, please.’

But she had just smiled. ‘Maybe we should take the evening off?’ she suggested.

‘But you came all the way down here,’ Jean protested. ‘Honestly, it’s fine, I can keep going.’

Renee gently took the book from him. ‘It’s ok,’ she said. ‘There’s plenty of time, Jean.Be kind to yourself.’

It was a familiar sentiment by now. Take it easy, no rush, don’t worry. Everyone was very careful with him, as though he might break again. Jean could tell that Jeremy was watching him closely, just waiting for him to crack.

But the thing was - Jean didn’t think he _was_ going to crack. Between work and his lessons and Jeremy and Kevin and all these other new people - even just learning the layout of Palmetto and finding his way to breakfast without getting lost - he didn’t have time to dwell. Sure, getting to sleep was hard. Sure, he woke up in a cold sweat most nights, with no clue where he was, ribs aching, heart pounding, stomach alive with nauseating flutters. But he wasn’t the only one; Kevin shouted himself awake at least twice a week, something he’d rarely done at the Nest, and even Neil was prone to nightmares that left him pale and dark-eyed the next day.

Even though they shared a room, they only returned there to pass out each night. Kevin was not a morning person, and Neil was not a talkative person, so their conversations - such as they were - only happened at the few mealtimes they managed to snatch together. Still, Jean felt it was important. He _did_ want to see them. Even if it was only to see the darkest parts of himself reflected in someone else. Just to feel a little bit more known.

At night, Jeremy would read to Jean on one of the free beds in the quiet med bay. Jean loved the companionship, and Jeremy’s soft, calm voice, so controlled, regardless of what he was reading. Jean thought if they ever ran out of books he would just ask Jeremy to read Abby’s drug lists, but Jeremy reassured him they would _never_ run out of books.

‘Especially if you keep liking them all so much,’ he said, holding up the latest. ‘Can you read the title?’

Jean squinted. ‘ _Watership Down_ ,’ he read, slowly. The cover was plain blue cloth. ‘What’s it about?’

Jeremy smiled. ‘Rabbits.’

Jeremy claimed he hadn’t been much of a reader, but he was excellent at it. Sometimes he got Jean to read a few lines, which Jean found painful and embarrassing at first. But it became a regular occurence, until Jean started looking forward to it, eager to show Jeremy that he could do it.

Sometimes, a line would spark Jeremy’s interest and lead to him telling a story about something from his own life, which was always far more interesting than whatever was happening on the page. Jean wished he had something to contribute in return; his own past was painfully grey and dull in comparison.

Despite this - despite the pain he was still in, and the nightmares, and the moments of startling dizziness and fear that seemed tooccur out of nowhere - Jean was happier than he’d ever been in his life. The days seemed to dash by recklessly, with Jean going to bed eager for the next to arrive.

Then came the first disruption.

Abby dropped the bombshell in between buttering Jean up with praise and compliments, and satisfying his desire to learn even more. Suddenly he had all this space for facts and knowledge, with no fear to distract him. He was safe, here, inside, with Jeremy nearby. He was doing good work.

‘You’ve been doing so well that David wants your help with something,’ Abby said. She was looking over Jean’s shoulder as he sewed up - or _sutured,_ as he now knew the medical term -a shallow knife wound on a girl’s arm.

Jean only murmured to show he was listening; he usually didn’t allow anything to distract him from working, especially when the person he was working on was about ten years old, and staring up at him with big, fearful eyes while her mother stroked her hair. Jean had never seen such a young person before. Logically he knew that he himself had once been that young, but the vague memories didn’t arouse the same feeling of protectiveness in him that this tiny girl did. He was trying very hard not to scare her.

’There’s a team going out in a few days,’ Abby went on, clattering around with instruments. ‘They’re moving down towards the border again, and they’re expecting some heat along the way. They’ll need medics, and both David and I would like to send you.’

Jean stopped working right away. Once it became apparent that his hands were beginning to shake, he quickly put the needle down and stepped away.

‘Jean?’

But Jean was not yet ready to speak. Abby, sensing danger, slid past him and smiled at the girl and her mother, and continued with the suturing while Jean quickly exited the room. ‘Don’t go far,’ Abby called after him.

Jean went and sat in the other room until Abby was finished and came to find him. His hands had stopped shaking by then, and she didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t feel any steadier inside.

Somehow, Jean managed to make it through the day without giving in to the urge to hide under the bed. When Jeremy arrived at lunch time Jean practically ran him out of the room.

‘Where’s the fire?’ Jeremy asked, reaching for Jean’s arm to slow him down.

‘What? What fire?’ Jean asked, distractedly. ‘Come here, I need to talk to you.’

In rushed, stumbling sentences, Jean told Jeremy about the plan to send a team out into the fighting, and he was to be a part of it. At the end of it, Jeremy sighed, but didn’t look surprised.

‘I thought something like this would happen,’ he said, quietly. ‘I just didn’t think it would be so soon. You’ve only been back on your feet - what, two weeks?’

Jean stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’

Instead of answering, Jeremy took Jean’s hand and led him over to their little window space. Despite the draught, it was one of Jean’s favourite places. Jeremy tucked one leg up underneath himself and brushed his thumb over Jean’s knuckles; the skin, which had almost finished knitting itself together, still bore faint bruises.

‘You know, Abby has to report to Command, just like the rest of us,’ Jeremy said. ‘And she’s just been singing your praises.’ Jeremy gave him a smile that warmed Jean right down to his bones.

‘We’ve been stuck for medics for a while,’ Jeremy went on. ‘Aaron’s trained, but we really need him working the smuggling routes. Most people get a ten minute crash course and a few rolls of bandages, and we all just pray that no one gets seriously hurt.’

Abby had mentioned this to Jean before. No one wanted to take on real medic training - they were all too eager to fight and use guns, or too afraid to go back outside. Jean put himself firmly in that latter category, but didn’t want to say so in front of Jeremy.

‘You’ve already shown Command that you’re strong, and brave, and don’t panic in dangerous situations.’

‘How would they know that?’ Jean grumbled, feeling very much like Jeremy was just talking nice to him, like how he did before they kissed.

Jeremy shrugged a little. ‘Because of what you told them. And what Kevin and Neil have told them - and me, too. Coach thinks you’re someone he can rely on, you know?’

Jean ran his eyes over Jeremy’s face, trying to find something false. Not used to receiving them, Jean still treated compliments with a considerable degree of suspicion.

But Jeremy just wasn’t the type, and Jean couldn’t help but believe him.

‘Ok,’ he said, slowly. ’But … I’m not ready. They’re going to send me out, even though I’m … not ready?’

Jeremy nodded. ‘Ok, what makes you think you’re not ready?’

This struck Jean as a strange question. ‘Everything?’

‘What do you mean?’ Jeremy frowned. ‘You seem like you’re having a good time, every day. Aren’t you?’

As Jean watched his sweet face crease in concern and puzzlement, he realised he hadn’t let Jeremy in on a lot of it. Whenever Jeremy came by to hang out, Jean was so determined to show him the best side of himself that he forgot that it wasn’t always the truth.

‘I’ve been having trouble sleeping,’ Jean admitted. He kept his voice low, like it would make this easier for Jeremy to hear. ‘Bad dreams. Sometimes I wake up and I don’t know where I am. And I’m always really, really scared. If I’m not working as hard as I can, all day long, or if I’m not with you - I’m scared.’

Jean stopped, eyes downcast, hating the words as he said them. He didn’t want to see Jeremy’s face fall as he realised Jean is not brave or strong or anything like that.

Jeremy was suddenly squeezing Jean’s hands very tightly. He leaned in, and Jean was forced to look up.

‘Jean,’ Jeremy whispered. ‘I’m sorry, I should have - but of _course_ you are. Honestly, I was waiting for you to tell me something like this, and I wanted to bring it up but - ‘ He stopped, and a quick smile fluttered over his face, apologetic. ‘You just seemed like you were doing so well. I didn’t want to bring up bad memories …’

This was so unexpected, but so utterly Jeremy, that it took Jean a moment to process it. When he did, all he could say was ‘Oh’.

Jeremy’s eyes were so warm and caring. ‘Jean,’ he said, softly. ‘Do you remember when we were talking about bad things, and nightmares? And about how it’s better to talk about these things out loud?’

Jean nodded. He did remember.

‘ _Why_ didn’t you tell me you’ve been feeling this way?’ he asked, a tinge of desperation in his voice. ‘I could have helped you!’

Jean’s chest felt constricted. ‘But I was supposed to be ok here,’ he said, voice cracking. ‘You said I would be fine - and I _should_ be fine. The danger’s gone now, right? I k-killed him. So why do I feel like I’m still back there?’

Now that he’d asked the question, however rhetorical he’d meant it, he found himself desperately hoping that Jeremy had an answer for him.

Jeremy held his gaze for a few moments, absently brushing his fingers over Jean’s hands. Then he said, ‘There are many people who could answer you better than I. Renee - ‘

‘But what do _you_ think?’ Jean whispered.

Jeremy lifted Jean’s hand to his mouth and kissed it, hard. He then pressed his forehead to it for a brief moment, and said, ‘This is all my fault, Jean. I’m sorry to say that traumatic experiences, like what you went through … they don’t just go away when it’s all over. I’m really, _really_ sorry if I made it sound like everything would be fine for you, once you got here. I was just so desperate to get you _out_ , that I didn’t even think …’ He sighed. ‘It’s not your fault, Jean. Not at all, not even a little. Your mind is still trying to heal. What you went through - your whole life - was so dark and cruel and painful that it will take you time to feel safe. But I promise you that you will, Jean. I think .. if we talk about it, and work through it, it will just start to feel like a bad dream. And then, one day, you’ll barely think of it at all.’

He paused, then looked down, like he was embarrassed. ‘That’s just what I think, at least. That’s how it was for me.’

And Jean remembered that Jeremy had trouble of his own; he was separated from his family, which had been broken to begin with.

Jeremy was looking quite downcast, and it stirred something in Jean.

‘Maybe you and I could talk about these things together,’ he said, surprised at how firm his voice was. ‘And it can help us both.’

Jeremy looked up, a flicker of surprise on his face. Jean wondered if Jeremy had expected him to be angry.

‘Are you sure?’

Jean nodded, feeling stronger from this alone. He felt safe with Jeremy; he could make sense of things when they were together.

Jeremy held his gaze for a few moments longer, as a slow smile crept across his face again. Balance restored.

‘You know, you don’t have to go out there if you don’t want to,’ Jeremy said.

Jean blinked. ‘What?’

Jeremy shook his head. ‘Remember, you’re here of your own free will. You signed up to be a medic, not a soldier. And it’s all different now - no one is forced to do anything they don’t want to do.’

The thought of disobeying hadn’t even occurred to Jean. The idea that he could refuse was revolutionary.

‘We’ll go to Coach,’ Jeremy said, gently. ‘It wasn’t fair to ask this of you. Especially since you’re not used to saying no. Don’t worry. He’ll understand.’

Jean nodded. ‘Tomorrow,’ he said. Jeremy’s hands had become loose around his own, so he took them and brought them to his own mouth. Then he smiled, and saw that Jeremy’s warm brown eyes were shining. ‘Tonight is for happier things.’

That night, Jean followed Jeremy into his bedroom. Jeremy, as someone who kept odd hours and had significant responsibility, and had been with the militia longer than most, had been granted his own sleeping room. It was very small, but it had a window and a small chest of drawers and a bed pushed up against the wall. The drawers, like everything else, had been carted in from abandoned houses in the area, back when the Militia had still being trying to turn Palmetto into a functioning home. The drawers were covered in faded little pictures, stuck there with some sort of adhesive. Stickers, Jeremy called them. For children, apparently, though Jeremy, too, seemed to have a fondness for them.

‘It’s not much,’ Jeremy said, spreading his arms with a sheepish smile. His arms almost touched both walls. Jean, who had never had a single space to himself apart from solitary confinement, thought it was wonderful.

The bed would scarcely fit both of them, but it wasn’t space they were looking for. Jeremy had taken the night off.

Jeremy turned off the light and they lowered themselves down on to the bed. The room was cool, and Jeremy pulled a knitted blanket over their legs. Jean reached for him right away. His arm slid over Jeremy’s waist, his hand moving restlessly to his skin. Jeremy touched Jean’s face, and drew him in.

Jean hadn’t forgotten all his old fears about intimacy, but they had arrived at a level that he was comfortable at, so he thought nothing of leaning into Jeremy’s touch and opening his mouth for him.

They kissed soft and slow, although the idea of having all night to do so filled Jean with an excitement that was hard to contain. Jeremy was so gentle with him, caressing him with care but firm intent, so that Jean was under no illusions. He could feel Jeremy’s desire hot upon his skin - but he held himself in check, for Jean. It was that which made Jean want to go further than before.

‘Jean.’ He tasted his own name on Jeremy’s lips. ‘We don’t have to do anything.’

Jean reached for Jeremy’s face and pulled him back to him, kissing him deeply. He felt Jeremy’s body respond instantly; his legs twitched, his breathing hitched, and his fingers tightened on Jean’s waist. Jean wondered what kind of a state he might be able to work Jeremy into, just from touching him like this. It was a strong, unusual feeling, to have that kind of power, and to be given it so freely.

Jean moved his other hand lower down Jeremy’s chest, feeling how it shuddered under his touch. Suddenly eager, he reached under Jeremy’s thin shirt until he found skin, so warm and soft and unmarked. Jean marvelled at it; he couldn’t stop running his fingers over it, until, with a rush a jump from both of them, his finger found Jeremy’s nipple.

Unaware that this could be a zone of pleasure, Jean eagerly reached for it again. He brushed his thumb over it, rubbing it to hardness, until each touch coaxed a little noise from Jeremy’s throat. This, Jean discovered, was utterly addictive. He drank in each little moan and gasp, thirsty for more. And he found himself whispering little things to Jeremy.Tiny nonsense things, an excuse to mouth at his neck. His voice was low and rough with lust; he hardly recognised himself.

When Jeremy became too sensitive Jean removed his hand, but found himself eager to bring Jeremy more pleasure. And now he could feel his own desire stirring for real, deep in his belly. He was drawn to Jeremy, irresistibly.

But then came that old flicker of unease, the rushing feeling of things going just too fast for him to control. He tried to push past the uncertainty, but it was enough to make his movements stutter.

Jeremy paused, sensing it right away. Jean worried that he’d ruined it, but instead Jeremy just took Jean’s hands and kissed his palms, then buried his own hands in Jean’s hair. He brought them right back to kissing, to that zone where Jean was comfortable and knew what he was doing. Jean let his hands continue to wander, but with the comfort of knowing nothing else would happen without his say-so. He helped him move with confidence, and he kissed Jeremy with a feeling so deep in his chest it was almost painful. This wonderful man, who knew him so well. How had he come to be here.

They kissed for hours - far longer than they should have, with their busy schedules. Jeremy kissed away all the fear and uncertainty of the day, and Jean let himself drown in the sensation of being adored. It infused his bones with warmth, a warmth he wanted to pour back into Jeremy. He whispered to him in French, little nothings, whatever came to mind, because it made Jeremy’s skin pebble and his breath come in gasps. Jean delighted in every bit of him.

They soon succumbed to exhaustion. Jeremy wrapped himself around Jean’s body from behind, tucking them together like spoons in a drawer. His nose brushed the back of Jean’s neck, and occasionally his lips. They were falling asleep together It was like when they had been back in the boiler room, only this time Jean was not injured, and he was not afraid.

He touched Jeremy’s hand, which rested against his stomach, and held it against his chest. His heart beat beneath Jeremy’s hand. It seemed to Jean that it beat only for him.

The dreams came like always, but when Jean awoke in the middle of the night, heart pounding, he did not feel the same fear as always. There was the beat of confusion in which he did not know where he was, and the shock of remembering what he had done, played out in his dreams in bright colour - but then he felt Jeremy’s soft body pressed against him, and smelled him, and heard his gentle snores. And, like before, it calmed him, and allowed him to return to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

In the morning, Jean woke first. He always rose early, the better to help Abby. Unsure of what time it was, he trusted that his body had woken him up at the right time, and made to get up.

Then Jeremy rolled over, his arm stretching out towards Jean. They had separated in the night, but now Jeremy’s sleeping body was searching for him. Something snagged on Jean’s heart, and made him long to return to bed. It wasn’t a reluctance to face the day - that, he was familiar with - but a deep desire to stay with someone; not for protection or safety but for the pleasure of their company.

Jeremy made a little murmur in his throat, lips still sealed in sleep. His hair was mussed from the pillow, his limbs utterly loose and relaxed. What Jean wouldn’t give to wrap himself around that body and kiss Jeremy awake.

But responsibility called, as he knew it would for Jeremy once he awoke. And Jean didn’t think he’d ever be comfortable with breaking the rules. So he contented himself with leaning over and kissing Jeremy once on the temple, hoping he could feel it in his sleep.

Outside, it took him a moment to get his bearings and shake off the night, largely because he didn’t really want to. He could still smell Jeremy on him, telling tales of what they’d done.

Jean found his way to his sleeping quarters with the intention of grabbing a change of clothes and heading straight to the showers. He shared a room with Kevin and Neil - three beds wedged into a tiny room. The bedrooms used to be full living spaces, but walls had been put up to partition each room into a separate space that slept three, so that they could accommodate more bodies.

Usually, it was one body one bed. More often than not, Neil climbed in beside Kevin after they thought Jean was asleep. Far from bothering Jean, it made him smile. Sometimes Andrew came and slept in Neil’s vacated bed, or doubled up with one of them. They had a very mysterious, inaccessible relationship, and Jean wouldn’t have wanted to pry into it even if he hadn’t been wrapped up in his own, so he didn’t answer. Andrew didn’t pay him much attention, which was probably just as well, for Jean had little to spare him, beyond making sure that his brothers were safe with him.

This morning, he found a similar scene. Somehow, all three of them had managed to get into the same bed. Kevin was pressed up against the wall, Andrew half-hanging off the edge, and Neil sprawled out on top of both of them. Jean quickly stifled a laugh, and rummaged around in his locker for what he needed before beating a hasty retreat.

He made it to the showers and found himself in good company. The showers were on the lower levels - they used to be changing rooms for athletes, according to Jeremy, people who played sports for their school - and they were already bustling with his fellow early risers. Jean was still unaccustomed to the friendly chatter that passed back and forth over his head, but on this morning he was able to return every smile that came his way with something like ease.

He emerged from the hot steam and set about getting dry and finding his clothes, enjoying all over again the fact that no one was shouting at him to get a move on. When emerged from the towel he found Kevin squinting at him through the steam.

‘Hello,’ Jean said, cautiously.

‘Where were you last night?’ Kevin snapped. Here, at least, was one thing that hadn’t changed.

‘What’s wrong?’ frowned Jean, sensing danger.

‘You didn’t come to bed,’ Kevin said, his tone full of accusation. ‘I didn’t know where you were.’

If it had been anyone else but Kevin, Jean would have said he sounded petulant, and upset over nothing. But he’d forgotten … new relationships or not, Kevin still needed something from Jean.

‘I was with Jeremy,’ he said, keeping his voice low, not wiling to let anyone else in on the secret just yet. ‘You knew I was fine, though, didn’t you? No one’s going to hurt me in here.’

He could tell from Kevin’s face that he _did_ know, but that didn’t make it any easier for him. Jean remembered, with slowly dawning realisation, what Jeremy had said about past fears and troubles taking a long time to stop making themselves felt, even when the danger was gone.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, quietly. ‘I will try to let you know next time. But … in case I don’t, you know where I’ll be. If you need me.’

Kevin still had pride - far more than Jean ever had. That was why he’d felt Riko’s taunts more keenly, why he’d suffered more from every word than Jean ever had from the lashes.

‘Are you up now or are you going back to bed?’ Jean asked him, as he finished dressing.

Kevin shrugged, still coming out of his mood. ‘I’m up,’ he said, evidently deciding not to hold it against Jean. It was progress.

Jean gently probed Kevin for news on their way down to breakfast. Kevin was having a much harder time adjusting to life at Palmetto, so it was difficult to get information out of him at the best of times. He had, it seemed, been spending a lot of time with his father.

‘They keep trying to get me to remember more of what I saw upstairs,’ Kevin said, referencing the other members of Command. ‘It’s hard, but … he says more will come back to me with time.’

Kevin had stumbled a little over mentioning Wymack. Jean had heard him refer to his father as Coach on several occasions, but maybe now it was starting to feel a little strange.

Jean had known Jeremy wouldn’t make breakfast - he rarely did, usually just grabbing a piece of fruit and running off to start his day - but he still felt a little flicker of disappointment as they entered the dining hall. It wasn’t enough to banish his good mood, however, so once he’d seen Kevin off towards a table containing a thoroughly rumpled-looking Neil and Andrew, Jean headed for one with a few more friendly faces.

The small crew who’d been apart of the rescue at the Moriyama Estate seemed to have absorbed Katelyn into their ranks, and by extension Aaron, who spent most of his time in Katelyn’s company. He didn’t always look thrilled to be included but, Jean assumed he put up with it for her sake.

Halfway across the hall he became seized by that old flutter of nerves - would they want him to sit down? How should he approach? What should he say? But Katelyn spotted him before any of those decisions had to be made, and her eyes sparkled.

He didn’t even have to think up something to say once he sat down. They all knew about the upcoming mission already, and seemed to think it was more a cause for celebration than concern.

‘What happened to your hand, Renee?’ Jean asked, just to get them talking about something else.

Renee grimaced, raising her bandaged hand slightly. ‘Dropped a wardrobe on it.’

Dan frowned. ‘That rules you out then, doesn’t it?’

Renee nodded. ‘Yeah, Coach is gonna ask Jeremy to step in, we’re the same - ’

Jean felt something heavy drop into his stomach. ‘What?’

Matt voiced the same objection, but for different reasons. ‘Isn’t his shoulder still on the mend?’ he asked, frowning.

Renee nodded. ‘Yes, but he just needs to be able to hold a gun and use his voice.’ Then she noticed Jean, and hesitated. ‘Are you ok?’

Jean had been in the process of crushing his fork. He let it go with a clang. ‘They shouldn’t be making him,’ he said, voice unsteady. ‘He could already have permanent damage to his shoulder - ’

‘Yeah, but this is war, Jean,’ Dan said, sympathetically, but with a shrug. ‘We need him out there. He’s a leader.’

Jean couldn’t argue that.

But it weighed on his mind all day long nonetheless. Abby sensed his inner turmoil and let him work quietly, without pressing him. Jean had never wrestled with a problem like this before; he was afraid, but there was absolutely nothing forcing him to do the thing that feared him. Was it a matter of conscience? Renee often spoke about conscience, and knowing what the right thing to do was. But Jeremy had told him to go with his gut, and to not put too much pressure on himself.

When Jeremy arrived that evening, Jean could tell instantly that he knew.

‘You didn’t speak to Coach,’ he said, voice low.

Jean shook his head. ‘No. Did you?’

Jeremy nodded. ‘Is there any point trying to talk you out of it?’

Jean made a noise of exasperation. ‘I was about to ask you that.’

Jeremy smiled, and everything lightened between them with no effort at all. Jean was still slightly annoyed, but he knew that this was the path he was on. It lay before him, scored with difficulties. But Jeremy seemed to think he was equal to them.

They took a long walk together that evening. The air was getting colder, and Jean felt it settling deep into his bones, but Jeremy had rustled up two magical items for him from the depths of Palmetto storage: a _hat_ , and a _scarf_.

‘You wrap it around like this,’ Jeremy said, standing in front of Jean and winding the soft material around his neck. ‘And then tuck it down the front … like this. And the hat - ’ He pulled it down over Jean’s ears. ‘There.’

Jean turned to look at himself in the tiny mirror. Both hat and scarf were a glaring orange, louder than any colour Jean had ever seen. They were soft, warm, and Jean felt so good wearing them that it took him aback.

‘Good?’ Jeremy asked.

Jean nodded, smiling slowly. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Very good. I feel warm, and …’

He shrugged, not having the word for it.

‘Cozy,’ Jeremy smiled, looking thrilled. Then he held out his hand shyly for Jean to take. New warm clothes, _and_ holding Jeremy’s hand while they walked together? Jean could hardly keep the smile from his face.

Jean was not used to seeing the sky at night. It was late, and chilly, but the sky was dashed with sparkling lights.

‘Way back when, you could hardly see any stars in the sky,’ Jeremy reminisced, also gazing fondly upwards.

Jean looked at him. ‘Are they a new … thing?’

Jeremy smiled, glancing at him. ‘No,’ he said. ‘The cities created so much light that the sky became polluted with it, and you couldn’t see the stars. They were still there, just hidden.’

Thinking about that made Jean feel immensely grateful to be here and now.

‘I’m lucky then,’ he said. ‘I get to see them now.’

Jeremy looked at him oddly, but didn’t comment on that.

They made a few slow laps of the main building, not wanting to stray too far from its shelter. Palmetto was walled and heavily guarded, but no one liked being outside much if they didn’t have to be.

Except Jean. Despite his fear of _out there_ , it was truly wonderful to be outside under the stars, protected, and with Jeremy. It was moments like this that he truly understood what freedom really meant.

‘Are you sure, then?’ Jeremy asked him.

Jean nodded. ‘I’m sure.’

‘Are you _sure_ you’re sure?’ Jeremy pressed. ‘Because when we spoke this morning - ’

Jean squeezed his hand. ‘When we spoke this morning,’ he said, quietly, ‘I thought I had to. I thought I had no choice, and - I think I thought it would be tantamount to throwing all this way. That I may as well just walk back into the - the Nest.’ He shrugged. ‘I needed to think about it.’

Jeremy eyed him. ‘And the fact that I’m now coming along had nothing to do with it?’ he asked, shrewdly.

Jean didn’t bother trying to deny it. ‘It did,’ he admitted. ‘That’s when I realised I wanted to go. Not just because of you, but because it’s the right thing to do. I want to do my part.’

Jeremy squeezed his hand again. ‘You’ve done more than enough,’ he murmured. ‘And you’re already helping, every day. No one would begrudge you a life of peace after what you’ve been through.’

Jean looked at him. His warm, brown eyes were full of concern, and in that moment Jean realised how bound to each other they were.

‘I’ve already found peace,’ he said, softly. ‘I want to be useful. I want to do this.’

Jeremy let that settle between them, and then smiled. He stretched up, searching for a kiss, and Jean was very happy to oblige.

Jean’s enthusiasm for the mission lasted right up until he was actually rattling around in the back of the truth, and everyone slipped into silent contemplation. Up until then there had been laughter and raucous energy, what Jeremy described as getting “psyched up”. Jean had refused the offer of a gun. Jeremy had assured him he’d be well covered if ever he had to go into action. That, plus the training sessions he’d begun having in the mornings with Renee to prepare him for a firefight environment, had left Jean with a reasonable degree of confidence in his decision to go ahead and be a part of this.

The truck was a cold, metal structure, with everything that could be spared ripped out to fit the maximum amount of people inside. Jean had a bag full of medical supplies that he was itching to use, even though that meant people would have to get hurt. Everyone looked so geared up and ready to go, hanging on to restraints dangling from the roof, and armed to the teeth even though they weren’t expecting to see much action. It made Jean want to get involved too. He wanted to be really part of it, and feel that adrenalin that Jeremy told him got him through the worst of it.

But then came the silence, and the cold, and the intensity of the space he was sharing with 12 others. Jeremy was nearby, and his presence gave Jean strength, but he was still very aware that he was the only one who didn’t know what was going to happen next.

When the truck stopped and Jeremy rushed them all out, it was into the complete silence of a deserted street. Jean had been informed that the first stop wasn’t their destination; they would go on foot from here.

Amidst all the talk and discussion about the mission, it had slipped Jean’s mind - and everyone else’s too, apparently - that this would be Jean’s first foray into the Outside. _The Out There_ , he and Kevin used to call it, as children, when they still dared to speak of it at all. The name came to him now, unbidden, as he took his first steps.

The gravel crunched beneath his feet. The road was uneven, cracked by the fighting that had raged over it. Jean wondered how recent the damage was. If he bent down and touched the black road would it still be hot from the fires of war?

He wasn’t give much time to muse. They were on the move, their pace quick, heads on swivels. Everyone had their gun raised and ready, except for Jean, who clutched his medicine bag and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

He was seeing houses for the first time. Homes, where people had lived out their lives until the war took them or forced them to move on. As their march wore on, twenty minutes, thirty, and the initial fear became tolerable, Jean wondered which one he would pick for himself, if he could. They all seemed fairly uniform, as though they had been designed by the same person, but most of the owners had added their own personal touches. A row of shrubbery, a brightly painted door, a little house made of wood and perched up in a tree. Jean’s head was turning, but not for the same reasons as everyone else’s.

They had to step over broken lampposts and mailboxes, things Jean recognised from Jeremy’s stories and books.

And then the noise reached them, and everyone hunched down a little. Jean flinched; gunfire. Fear rose up in him like a living creature, forcing his feet to stop moving. Someone knocked into him, cursed softly, and somehow Jeremy knew to drop back and look for him.

‘You ok?’ he asked, breath

coming in short, even bursts. ‘Come on, it’s ok. They’re nowhere near us.’

Though his fear was great, he was more afraid of being left behind without the protection of the others, so Jean got his ass moving again.

Jean didn’t immediately realise it when they encountered conflict. The gunshots were now so near that it was hard to tell them apart from the shots that rang out from Dan’s gun.

‘Stragglers,’ she called back to Jeremy, her voice low but carrying. Her tone sounded a bit put off.

‘Strange,’ Jeremy murmured in reply. He gave Jean a quick nudge with his shoulder before moving up top. Jean, rattled by the shots, now felt in the grip of real panic. It was a struggle to breath normally, even though up until now the exercise had felt good. The people on his left and right didn’t show much anxiety, but their guns were raised, fingers drifting near the triggers.

Then they rounded a corner, and found the source of the stray shots. They also found that they were too late to help anyone, and Jean now felt a new fear strike his heart and root him to the spot as his breath caught in his chest.

The street ahead of them was wide, framed on either side by houses, much like the one they’d just left. But instead of shrubs and little wooden houses in trees, the lawns and sidewalk were decorated with bodies. Broken, bloody, headless. Limbs. Parts that Jean had only seen in Abby’s books. He remembered once when Kevin had been crippled with inexplicable pain and the guards had refused to do anything about it, when he had been desperate to know what the inside of a human body looked like, so he could figure out what was wrong. He had been conjuring up images of pulsing red weirdness, trying to figure out what was going wrong inside Kevin so that he could put it right. Abby’s books had blown his mind, and he’d been feeling confident about his own abilities ever since.

Now there was more blood than he’d ever seen in his life. The road was tacky with it. Their boots stuck to it.

One by one, everyone had stopped. Jeremy, at the front, was still walking very slowly amidst the carnage, with Dan and Alvarez flanking him. Dan stopped first, hand over her mouth. Then Alvarez, turning her head away, her face hard as stone.

Jean kept going until he reached Jeremy, who had now stopped, shoulders slumped. Jean looked at him, startled to see wide eyes full of despair, totally devoid of any of the usual warmth and humour and life. It was like looking at a different person.

Jean had spent a long time looking at Jeremy to show him what to do next, and right now was no exception. But Jeremy’s face held no answers. When he looked back at Jean, Jean that he was searching for something too.

‘We should check for survivors,’ Jean said, mechanically repeating what he knew Abby would want him to.

Jeremy took a minute to stare at him a little longer, as though absorbing strength. It was disconcerting for Jean, but he let him look for as long as he needed.

‘Spread out,’ Jeremy finally called, dragging his gaze away. ‘Look for survivors. Stay in pairs.’

Jean moved off first, Jeremy following a few steps behind him. Jean moved carefully, reaching down for each pulse, taking his time. He wasn’t sure if it was the shock, or the strange sensation of taking the lead from Jeremy, but he was relatively unmoved by the sight, beyond a dull horror and feeling of despair. Some of the others were crying; vaguely, he could hear some retching. But Jean was no stranger to senseless violence. He only wished he could protect Jeremy from it.

Not every body required checking. One was missing half her head; Jean quickly changed direction. No one stirred. Jean’s fingers were stained with blood but he had no cause to reach for his bag until a cry went up from across the street.

‘There’s one - someone’s alive!’

The tone of Renee’s voice had Jean moving before he’d registered her words. He turned, striding over bodies as urgency rose up inside him, only dimly registering Jeremy on his heels. Fear and panic swirled in his bloodstream as he was suddenly called into action. He pushed people aside, dropped to his knees beside Renee, reached for the bloodied body to check, to find out whatever he could, and his hands came back covered in gore. His mind raced, and before he could second guess himself he stuck his hands back down, pressing them over the gunshot wound in the woman’s stomach.

‘Jeremy,’ he said, voice surprisingly calm. Jeremy was there in an instant, digging inside Jean’s bag.

‘What do you need?’ he asked. He sounded raw, shocked, but there was nothing Jean could do for him with both his hands and all of his attention on the woman struggling to stay alive.

Jean rattled off a few items, and Jeremy dutifully laid them out on the woman’s leg. Renee was at her head, her hands shaking as they stroked through her dirty yellow hair. Jean’s eyes skirted away from both of them and refocused on the medical tools, his mind quickly assessing the situation.

The blood was immense and cloying. Only some of it was from the bullet wound, he realised; the rest seemed to be coming from her head. None of the diagrams had prepared him for how much there would be, but he ploughed on regardless, determined to make it stop.

And he did. Somehow, the bleeding slowed. Jean, hands an inch away from shaking, slipped a needle into her arm and sent her off to sleep. She had remained awake up until then, cursing at them all. Renee was still stroking her hair, eyes glassy.

Jean sat back, stunned. No one else seemed to know what to do next. Then Jeremy took a deep, shuddering breath, and stood up.

‘Who’s got the stretcher?’

Matt raised his hand, stepping up from behind Dan. Jean stepped back while they got the woman loaded up and strapped down. He reached for his bag, dragging it out of the way of the shuffling feet, and stared around the street in case he’d missed anyone, but all he saw were pale foreheads marked with crosses in their own blood.

‘Will she live?’ Renee asked, her voice very quiet.

Jean didn’t meet her eyes. ‘The bullet is still inside her,’ he said. ‘It’s acting as a plug. We need to get her to Abby …’

He had to stop, because he wasn’t sure. With a little twitch of his head, he stepped away.

‘Time to go,’ Jeremy said, eyes flickering to Jean briefly, looking for confirmation. Jean nodded; there was no one else here to save.

‘We didn’t search the houses,’ Alvarez pointed out.

Jeremy looked like he was going to say no, but relented with a twist of his mouth. ‘You have ten minutes,’ he said, fixing her with an intense look. ‘Take Dan.’

Alvarez was already turning before he’d finished speaking; as she did so, Jean saw Jeremy’s body sag slightly.

They didn’t hang about. Renee took one end of the stretcher, and Jean took the other so that he could keep an eye on the now unconscious woman. He shifted his grip occasionally to feel for a pulse in her ankle. He did it every other minute, now wildly unsure whether or not he’d actually saved her life or just slowed down the evidence of bleeding.

The going was slow. Everyone was on high alert. Jean thought if he heard another gunshot he might drop the stretcher, but they made it back to the truck without incident. There wasn’t much room now, and Jean wondered distantly what they would have done if they’d found more than one survivor.

The wait for Alvarez and Dan was torturous. Only Jeremy managed to stay still, standing tall in the street with his eyes fixed on the curve in the road. Everyone else paced and fidgeted. Matt sat in the truck, one foot on the gas. Jean sat next to the woman on the stretcher, unable to stray very far from her. Renee was nearby, and her anxiety was almost palpable.

Calm though he appeared, Jean saw Jeremy take his first deep breath when Dan and Alvarez rounded the corner, moving briskly but not running. Alvarez had a pink backpack slung over her shoulder.

Matt started the truck. It took some manoeuvring to get everyone into the truck; Jeremy wedged into the front with Dan and Matt, and Jean sat on the ground at the woman’s head, allowing people to stand over him. The smell of fear and blood was thick and nauseating, and Jean was not the only one fighting down the urge to heave by the time the truck finally rattled over the grate at the entrance to Palmetto.

Jean helped them get the stretcher out of the truck. Abby jogged beside him as they followed it down to the medical bay, and he gave her the best report he could manage under the circumstances. Abby asked a few quick questions, keeping to the subject of the woman they now had to save. Abby looked pale but determined, and by the time she was putting on a gown and ordering Jean to scrub up to his elbows she was as calm and controlled as Jean needed her to be.

Jean monitored the anaesthetic - the precious little they had of it - and handed Abby her instruments as she extracted the bullet from between the woman’s ribs.

‘She was lucky,’ Abby muttered from behind her mask. The bullet plinked into the silver dish in Jean’s hand. ‘Incredibly, unreasonably lucky. This was a shot in a thousand.’

The familiar sights and sounds of the medical bay and Abby’s voice were settling Jean. It was enough to make him wish he was the one doing the cutting and stitching. Abby’s hands were so sure and steady. Jean’s were still prone to unexpected shakes.

A few hours later, and it was done. The woman was stitched up and sedated and pumped full of everything Abby could spare her in order to keep her alive and free of infection.

‘We’ll have to monitor her closely,’ Abby said, rotating her neck. ‘I don’t have all the machines I would like …’

‘I’ll stay with her,’ Jean said.

Abby gave him a little smile. ‘You’re exhausted,’ she said. ‘And you’ve had a shock. Go and rest, Jean.’

Jean looked at her. ‘It was awful,’ he said.

Abby nodded. ‘I can only imagine,’ she said, softly. ‘Everyone who went out there will be out of commission for 24 hours at least. Go and find Jeremy. Talk to him. You’ll need each other.’

When Jean still hesitated, Abby smiled again, this time in sympathy. ‘I know it can feel hopeless,’ she said. ‘Seeing something like that. But you saved this woman’s life. You did a great job, Jean.’

 _You did a great job_. Jean turned those words over inside his head as he left the medical bay. He’d done what he’d been trained to do. He’d done his job, just like all the other jobs before. Cleaning, cooking, lifting, fetching, escaping. Or, trying to escape.

All that death. His first glimpse of the world he’d almost died trying to get to. The world he’d killed to see.

He found Renee first. She was sitting in the hallway outside the med bay. Jean thought she looked relaxed, at first, until he saw the tight lines on her face.

He stopped beside her. It took a moment for Renee to look up at him. She didn’t speak, but Jean saw the question on her face.

‘She’s going to be ok, I think,’ he said. ‘She’s sleeping now.’ He hesitated, then added. ‘You should be too.’

Renee nodded. Though it had only been an afternoon out in the world, Jean was weary right down to his bones.

Despite his tiredness, he didn’t head for his bedroom. He ended up in front of Jeremy’s bedroom door. When he knocked, there was no answer. He thought about opening the door, but then remembered that people didn’t always like it when you walked in and out of their rooms here without permission. Lacking any other ideas or things he wanted to do, he sat down with his back to the wall, head tipped sideways so he would spot Jeremy when he rounded the corner.

He didn’t realise he was falling asleep until the footsteps stopped beside him. His eyes fluttered open as Jeremy knelt down beside him.

‘Hey,’ he said. His voice was tired and scratchy. ’I’m sorry, I was with …’

He trailed off. Jean knew he’d been holed up with Command, answering all the questions that had made his voice hoarse like that.

Jean shifted his body around, facing Jeremy. ‘Are you ok?’

Jeremy paused for a moment, then shook his head. ‘Are you?’

Jeremy pushed open the door and lead Jean inside. They didn’t bother to turn on the lights; Jeremy reached for Jean and wrapped a hand around the back of his neck. At his touch, Jean finally exhaled fully for the first time since he’d gotten on the truck that morning.

He put his arm slowly around Jeremy’s waist, lingering briefly before pulling him in close. They held still, and Jean focused on Jeremy’s breathing to keep himself steady.

‘That was worse than I thought it would be,’ Jeremy said quietly. ‘I’m sorry.’

Jean didn’t respond right away. He brushed his nose against Jeremy’s neck and tried to gather his thoughts, so he could be as honest as he could.

‘It was bad,’ he said, quietly.

Jeremy’s fingers brushed his hairline. ‘I wish that hadn’t been your first time outside.’

Jean murmured quietly in disagreement. ‘I got a little sun on my face … some exercise … saw some houses … and I got to save a life. As a first outing, it wasn’t that bad.’

Jeremy huffed a little laugh against Jean’s neck, lips brushing his skin, and the whole thing suddenly became worth it.

Jeremy talked, a little. He whispered to him his thoughts and concerns, things that were worrying Command about what they’d seen - besides the obvious. Tiny little confidences. Jean sensed that he wasn’t really looking for solutions - he just needed to talk. So he held him close and murmured acknowledgments, and made small questioning noises when he felt Jeremy needed to say more. They swayed gently in the middle of Jeremy’s tiny room, holding each other. Eventually Jeremy fell silent, face turned in towards Jean’s neck. Jean could feel his body sag with exhaustion, and when he suggested they lie down, Jeremy’s only response was the barest noise of agreement in his throat.

Jean hadn’t realised the toll the afternoon had taken on Jean. It seemed that all the carnage he’d seen before, including the battle in the Nest, had involved at least a decent fight on both sides. Arriving at a scene of flat death had rattled him.

They lay down on the bed, and Jeremy immediately turned his back on Jean. This confused him briefly - he’d been anticipating some sort of cuddling - when Jeremy began wriggling back towards him. Jean finally got it. He reached out and pulled Jeremy into his arms, pressing his nose against the back of his neck with a flicker of delight. His body felt so good; he fit perfectly against Jean. Jeremy’s hands closed over Jean’s, and he gave a quiet little sigh of contentment. Jean, despite everything, found himself smiling as he drifted off to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

The woman’s name was Allison. Jean heard this from a tired but happy Abby that evening, when he returned to the med bay after dinner. He wouldn’t have left Jeremy if given the choice, but their empty stomachs had woken them up after a few hours, and Jeremy had remembered a dozen things he needed to do. Jean expected him to go into work mode right away, but instead he leaned over and kissed Jean’s cheek softly, and ran a hand over his chest.

‘Did you sleep?’ he asked, drowsily, before sitting up and rubbing his shoulder.

Jean rolled on to his back but kept his eyes on Jeremy. ‘Yes.’ He knew Jeremy had been asleep; he’d curled up in his arms and twitched through bad dreams, startling Jean every time into wakefulness.

He sat up, and put a hand on Jeremy’s back. ‘You didn’t sleep well.’

Jeremy gave a little sigh. Jean’s hand crept up to his shoulder, and Jeremy covered it with his own. ‘Are you going back to the med bay?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ Jean replied. ‘Can we …’

He didn’t want to be alone.

Jeremy turned around fulled, eyes wide on him. ‘Yes,’ he said. He paused, then gave a rueful little smile. ‘You mind sharing again?’

Being with Jeremy made Jean feel like a very different person. He felt solid, and whole. Thinking about seeing him at the end of the day was exciting. Remembering all their little smiles and talks and touches while he worked brought him light. Jeremy leaned on him for support - on _him_ , on _Jean_. He found comfort in Jean, but he didn't need him to survive, so Jean didn't feel crippled or bound by it. It was incredible. Jean found himself wanting to tell someone. Maybe it would make Kevin smile.

Abby was waiting for him in her little office, finishing up a patient’s chart. Writing did not come naturally to her; she wrote a little like he did, shaking her wrist every now and then and flexing her fingers.

‘I used to type everything,’ she said, seeing Jean’s expression. ‘But we’re severely lacking in computers these days, and even if we had one I doubt I’d get the electricity allowance from up top.’

‘Why don’t you switch to your other hand,’ he suggested, as she shook her wrist out again.

Abby glanced up at him. ‘Is that what you do?’ she asked, in mild surprise.

Jean nodded, and she grinned at him. ‘More surprises,’ she said. ‘Not everyone can do that, Jean.’

Jean didn’t think much of that. Being unable to write more than a few sentences of basic words wasn’t any more impressive just because he could do it with both hands.

‘Allison’s awake,’ she said, nodding her head towards the door on her left.

Jean raised his eyebrows. ‘Talking?’

Abby smiled down at her paperwork. ‘She’s groggy. Cursing, mostly. But I found her ID in her purse. Still carrying it around, even in a war zone. Designer, barely scuffed. Then again, if I could have afforded that maybe I would have kept it around, too.’

Jean looked through the window at the woman in the bed, Allison. Her blonde hair was still dirty, but had been scraped up into a knot on top of her head, leaving her face clear. She was propped up on pillows, watched over by Renee, who was speaking softly to her. Jean hadn’t planned on going in, but Renee caught his eye and beckoned.

With a rush of nerves, Jean opened the door. Allison’s head swivelled, and though she winced in pain at the movement, her gaze was sharp and piercing.

‘Allison, this is Jean,’ Renee said, softly.

Allison’s face was scarred, her gaze even more so. ‘Guess I should thank you,’ she croaked. ‘But hearing I’m the only one you managed to save out of twenty doesn’t make me feel super grateful.’

Renee made a tiny noise of admonishment, but Jean found himself agreeing. ‘I know what you mean,’ he said, quietly. ‘Why you, right?’

Allison paused. ‘Right,’ she said, cautiously.

‘Jean’s new here, too,’ Renee said, with a little smile.

‘I’m new to more than just here,’ Jean said. For some reason, he thought that nothing would shock her, and she probably wouldn’t care to know either.

He was right. She just shrugged, winced again, and said, ‘See, this is why I never wanted to join up with you guys in the first place. Too many weirdos.’

Jean found himself smiling.

Over the next few days, things were quiet at Palmetto. Command were scaling back their movements into occupied territory, but no one was very keen to go into the suspected dead zones. Allison and Renee were spending a lot of time together; Allison had a lot of anger, and what she’d lost seemed to be catching up to her. Jean couldn’t figure out if she’d been close to anyone in the group that had been slaughtered or if it had just been the loss of familiarity and nearly her own life, but it was rare to get a calm word out of her. She always snapped at Jean when he stopped by to check her wounds and change her bandages. Jean found that he rather liked spending time around her, despite the constant criticism - or maybe because of it. She was completely honest; even when she was insulting him, it was nothing he hadn’t thought himself a thousand times. Something about hearing it from her, always in anger and caused by her own pain, made Jean consider that his own bad thoughts might be caused by the same emotions.

‘Your hands are always shaking,’ Allison pointed out, as he reached for the dressing. ‘What the fuck.’

‘I know,’ Jean commented. ’The Doc says it’s from past trauma. Maybe it’ll happen to you, too.’

Allison stared at him for a full minute. Then her face cracked into a full grin.

‘Damn, ok,’ she said. ‘Ok, not bad.’

From that point on, the digs lessened, and Jean had made another friend.

The weather began to turn cold, and the forays into the outside world started up again. Jean found himself busy, but not with further expeditions. The med bay was flooded with people suffering from weather-related illnesses. Jean spent his days writing people up for bedrest, since there was apparently nothing they could do for coughs and cold other than hand out tissues. He did have to make a few decisions, however; Laila turned up with swollen glands, the sweats, and no voice, and Jean guessed it was an infection.

‘Bed,’ he told her, nodding towards their makeshift ward behind her. Laila only glared. Rather than try to stare her down, Jean just busied himself writing up her sick note. He now knew all the words that he needed for his various tasks, but he wouldn’t be writing essays any time soon, or going off script. ‘Does your last name have two T’s or one?’

‘You write like you’re in pain,’ Allison commented, as she hobbled by on her crutches. She had been set free by Abby a week ago after getting over a nasty infection, but she still had to come back every day so that they could check up on her. She enjoyed watching Jean work; she called him “old man Moreau”, because of how slow and measured he did everything. 

‘I write better than you walk on those crutches,’ Jean replied, without looking up. As well as the gunshot and head wound, Allison had also cracked her femur in the fight.

Renee drifted in shortly after that. Allison hadn’t stayed long - she said she didn’t want to catch everyone else’s germs. Jean took pity on Renee before she could waste too much time peering behind the curtains.

‘Allison stopped by earlier today,’ he said, as he disinfected his hands. ‘She’s trying to catch me scratching my head over these charts.’

Renee was far too humble to be embarrassed. ‘Darn,’ she said, with a rueful smile. ‘Well, maybe I’ll see her at dinner.’

‘You sick?’ Jean asked, turning around to face her properly. She didn’t look it, but Renee was always a little pale, a little quiet.

She shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Just tired. Been picking up some slack today.’ She smiled. ‘Don’t pack up just yet. You’ve got one more.’

She jerked her head towards the doorway, and Jean followed her gaze. He smiled when he saw Jeremy lurking there, a sheepish expression on his face.

‘Hello,’ he said, hearing the warmth slipping into his voice.

He and Jeremy had been sleeping together most nights now - although he had learned that people definitely got the wrong idea when he used the expression “sleeping together”. Jeremy’s workload was settling down some as others were promoted up to help out, but he still had some trouble relaxing. Jean was trying to help him with that.

Jean saw immediately that Jeremy wasn’t just stopping by to see him. His nose was red, his cheeks were flushed, and he looked exhausted. Jean hadn’t seen him since the previous morning; he’d assumed he’d been busy. They always caught up to each other eventually, and the distance didn’t make Jean heartsick like it used to, because the reunions were always so good. Now, he saw that Jeremy had been avoiding him.

‘Sit,’ Jean said, jabbing his finger at the exam table and snapping on a new pair of gloves. Renee slid out of the office with a smile on her face, and Jeremy threw an exasperated look her way.

‘She made me come,’ he said. ‘I know there’s nothing you can give me. It’s just a cold.’

Jean just raised an eyebrow and looked at him until Jeremy sighed and heaved himself up on to the table.

Jean always took care with his exams, but with Jeremy he checked everything twice. He also didn’t bother wearing a mask, which Jeremy noted right away.

‘I kissed you yesterday morning,’ Jean said, breathing on the stethoscope to warm it up. ‘And those masks make my face itch. Now be quiet, I need to listen to your heart.’

Jeremy’s heart rate was a little elevated, as was his temperature. His glands were swollen and he had almost no energy.

‘Bedrest,’ Jean said, with supreme satisfaction.

‘But I have to - ‘

‘Bed,’ said Jean. ‘Rest.’

‘Jean.’

‘Look, I can almost do joined up writing now,’ Jean said, picking up the pad and sitting down beside him. With a sigh, Jeremy leaned against his side.

‘It’s good,’ he said quietly, after a few minutes of watching Jean write.

Jean smiled. ‘Thank you,’ he replied. ‘I’m getting a lot of practise.’

‘You haven’t gotten sick yet,’ Jeremy pointed out. ‘How come?’

‘Masks and repeated hand washing,’ Jean replied. The party line.

Jeremy reached out and caught the hand that wasn’t writing. ‘I can see,’ he murmured. ‘Your skin is all dry again.’

Jean made a fist, watching the skin stretch. Even the lotion could only do so much. ‘Hazards of the job,’ he said. ‘Luckily, these ones are easier to live with.’

Jeremy laughed quietly, then broke out into a fit of coughing. Jean rubbed his back sympathetically and made a mental note to make sure Jeremy got a healthy does of that strong decongestant gel. They were supposed to be saving it for the worst cases, but being one of Palmetto’s two doctors had to have some perks.

‘You’re really running the place now, huh?’ Jeremy commented, as Jean bustled around. They had to establish set clinic hours in the wake of the sniffles epidemic, otherwise they’d have people showing up breathing their germs everywhere while they were trying to examine patients who were already sick and vulnerable or recovering from gunshot wounds.

‘Abby has a lot of work to do,’ Jean said, moving briskly around the space that he now knew so well. ‘She reviews my work at the end of every day … And we do most of the new patients together. But diagnosing coughs and colds?’ His lips twitched. ‘She calls that grunt work.’

Jeremy smiled at him. ‘Look at you,’ he said. ‘Diagnosing. Using a stethoscope. Prescribing stuff. Telling me what to do.’ His smiled stretched wide. ‘You’re so _cool_.’

Jean snorted. ‘You’re delirious.’ But inside his heart was pounding joyfully.

Jeremy wanted to come to dinner with Jean, but Jean insisted he stay in one of the beds. He wanted Jeremy to rest as much as possible, to prevent his body from becoming even more stressed.

‘The kitchens are making everyone some special sick food,’ Jean told him, pushing Jeremy down in the bed again. ‘Chicken noodle soup. I’m told it’s comforting.’

Jeremy sighed. ‘It is,’ he said. ‘I’d rather eat with you, though.’

Jean didn’t disagree. ‘I’ll be back soon,’ he promised.

Jean found the dining hall more vacant than it usually was. Many people were choosing to eat dinner in their rooms, either because they were sick or because they were wary of mingling with the general populace. 

Jean was fine with that. It meant he could pick up his food and get back to Jeremy quicker. Jean discovered he had little appetite; something about wiping people’s noses and being coughed on all day had put him right off the bowls of greyish slimy soup they were serving. He could see the noodley bits swimming around in there. They reminded him of worms.

Having been given explicit orders to rest, it was now difficult to get Jeremy to stay awake long enough to eat.

‘Sleepy,’ Jeremy protested, burrowing his head into the pillow. Jean could see him peeking, though; he was being playful.

‘Would you like me to feed you?’ Jean asked, calmly taking a seat, prepared to fight a slow battle. He had seen one of the new fathers at breakfast trying to encourage his child to eat the mushy food on a spoon, making little _nyoom_ noises as he waved it around in front of her. Jean was not allowed to treat children yet, and was glad of this, as they seemed a whole world away from his capabilities.

‘Come on,’ he encouraged, taking a spoonful of soup. Catching Jeremy’s eye again, he copied the _nyoom_ noise and waved the spoon hopefully.

Jeremy burst out laughing, rolling over in bed. It was worth the foolishness, even though it did end in a fit of coughing.

‘Calm down,’ Jean admonished him. ‘The baby didn’t react like this.’

Jeremy conceded defeat, and struggled into an upright position so he could eat the soup.

There were a few other patients sleeping around them - they were at capacity at the moment, and dinner wouldn’t be along to the rest of them until a little later.

‘Is this special treatment?’ Jeremy asked.

‘What do you mean?’

Jeremy raised an eyebrow, spoon clinking in the bowl. ‘Dinner, and a doctor to watch over me? Surely you have better things to be doing.’

Jean did have some charts he could be labouring over - they took him long enough as it was - and the exam room needed to be tidied. ‘Not really,’ he said. ‘Making sure you eat this and then actually rest is more important. I’m not convinced you won’t sneak out of bed in the middle of the night and try to do chores.’

Jeremy smiled. “Chores” was the gentle term Jeremy used to describe everything he did to keep Palmetto running on a daily basis. It could often be a crippling workload, but Jean preferred it to the other side of Jeremy’s responsibilities; leading teams into war zones to save poor souls just like Jean.

‘They can get along without me for a day or so,’ Jeremy said, lightly. Then he eyed Jean. ‘You can’t keep an eye on me all night. No space for sleepovers in here.’

Jean gave a little sigh. ‘True. But don’t worry, there’s enough sedative in that soup to knock you out for sixteen hours. You won’t miss me at all.’

Jeremy was laughing and it was a wonderful sound, despite the hoarse, congested quality to it. Jean settled himself in his chair and was content.

The next two days kept Jean so busy, however, that he hardly had time for a casual chat with Jeremy, let alone anything more interesting. Abby came down with the flu, and her temperature skyrocketed so quickly that Jean felt a flash of real fear. Thankfully, they were both able to keep their heads, and the result was that Jean had a full 24 hours were he was totally on his own, in command, and in pretty much a total state of anxiety.

‘Chill out, number three,’ Allison said lazily, watching Jean juggle medication and masks. ‘I’m pretty sure even you can’t kill anyone suffering from the sniffles.’

‘Can you get out of here, please?’ Jean asked, struggling valiantly. ‘If you get sick then I’ll have to deal with you, too.’

‘You haven’t looked at my wound yet,’ Allison sniffed.

Jean eyed her quizzically. ‘Is it bothering you?’

‘No.’

‘Then scram, I’m busy.’

Allison didn’t respond or leave. It took Jean a minute to recognise the silence as odd; Allison never failed to clap back at him, and she _always_ got the last word.

‘Still here?’ he asked, glancing over his shoulder. ‘I still have to check the patients in the beds, so if there’s nothing else - ‘

‘Are you and Jeremy fucking?’ Allison asked abruptly. Too abrupt for Jean; he dropped an armful of charts.

‘Oh, for fucks sake,’ Allison snapped, unreasonably angry. She hopped down off her perch and struggled to her knees to pick them up. Jean was rather slower in crouching down.

‘I’m sorry if I offended your delicate sensibilities,’ she stormed on. Jean was baffled by this attack, and busied himself with the charts to hide it. ‘But are you? Sleeping together, having sex, whatever.’

New as Jean was to the world of civilised conversation, he knew the question would make Jeremy’s ears go red, and so it was likely impolite.

‘That’s none of your business,’ he said.

Allison rolled her beautiful eyes. ‘Look, I don’t _care_ what you’re doing. I just - well, you killed a whole bunch of dudes and clearly have a thousand issues, and you somehow managed to bag the sweetest guy in here. So I just wanted to know if it was true and - and how you did it,’ she finished, with a slight hitch in her voice.

Instead of standing up, Jean sat back on his heels and looked at her. By now, he knew Allison well enough to not feel insulted by this assessment. He _had_ killed people, and he did have issues. But he realised he shared some of those with Allison; she was always angry, and seemed to have trouble relating to other people. She also woke up in the middle of the night, crying. Bad dreams. Jean had them too.

‘There’s no trick to it,’ he said, quietly. ‘Jeremy wants to be with me … despite everything. We connected at a very difficult time. He helps me and … I think I help him, too. Somehow.’

Allison frowned deeply. ‘I can’t help anyone,’ she said. ‘That’s no good to me.’

Jean shrugged. ‘We all have shit,’ he said, quoting something Laila said frequently. ‘I’m trying to work around mine.’

Allison stared down at her fists for a long moment. ‘I lost everyone on that street,’ she said, quietly. Her voice was coiled like a spring. ‘We were trying to get here. I’m the only one who made it … and I’m fucking it up.’

‘No you’re not.’

‘I have literally nothing to contribute.’

Jean shrugged. ‘That’s what I thought, too.’

Allison made an impatient noise. ‘That’s completely different.’

‘It’s not,’ Jean said, softly. ‘All I was good for … before … was lifting and pulling and breaking. And - killing. I had no idea how to live, none at all. But it’s not all about what you know. Sometime’s it’s just about trying your best, however you can.’

Allison looked up at him. Her expression was guarded, but Jean saw a flicker of hopefulness in her eyes. ‘Will just trying my best make me feel normal again?’

Jean shrugged. ‘Maybe, eventually. But if I have a normal, it’s when I’m with Jeremy. Or Abby, or Katelyn … or you.’

Allison blinked, surprised, and Jean held her gaze. ‘Other people,’ he said. ‘They make things feel normal again.’

Allison digested this. Jean knew she was feeling better again when she aimed another jab at him. ‘So how come you avoid your brothers?’

Jean rolled his eyes. ‘I don’t feel _that_ comfortable with you yet,’ he said, dryly, getting to his feet. Allison scrambled up after him with some difficulty, but Jean knew her better than to offer a hand. ‘You could always go ask Kevin yourself, though.’

Allison snorted. ‘I’d rather die, but thanks.’ She sighed, and rubbed her wounded side absentmindedly. The wound itched as it healed, Jean knew. ‘So do you think I have any shot with Renee, then? I thought I’d ask you, since we seem to have some parallels there.’

Jean hid his smile behind the stacks of charts. ‘Maybe we do, but the person you should be asking stops by here every day at 3pm, her only half-hour off, and waits around hoping you’ll show up to annoy me.’

He turned his back and began stacking the charts in a better formation to spare Allison the trauma of having to arrange her facial muscles in response to that. Before she could skip out the door, however, he called over his shoulder, ‘Never talk about my relationship with Jeremy again, please. Or I’ll tell Neil we no longer need scented shampoo.’

A soft, outraged gasp was as close to a win as he was ever going to get with Allison.

*

‘This is not a good idea.’

Jean tried to snatch the jar from Jeremy. ‘It’ll be fine.’

Jeremy took a stop back, looking appalled. ‘You’re a _doctor_.’

‘Yes, and I authorise this.’

‘You’re being reckless,’ Kevin sniffed from where he was sitting on cot #3. ‘And he’s not really a doctor.’

‘You’re a baby,’ Jean retorted. His new favourite insult.

‘There’s _no way_ he hasn’t already been exposed to peanuts,’ Allison pointed out from cot #2, exasperated. ‘The kitchen doesn’t give a fuck for allergen concerns.’

‘Don’t they?’ asked Jeremy, looking crestfallen.

‘She’s exaggerating,’ Renee said quickly.‘But Jean probably has been exposed, Jeremy.’

‘The epipen is _right here_ ,’ Jean said, waving it around before tossing it to Renee. ‘Please let me try peanut butter.’

Jeremy looked agonised. ’I cannot in good conscience hand you something that could kill you.’

Allison made a noise of pure frustration. ‘You send him out with a _gun_ to get _shot at -_ ’

‘I did not send him anywhere. And that was one time!’

Jean snatched the jar.

’No!’

But it was too late. Finger in the jar, scoop, finger in mouth.

Jeremy’s hands went to his hair. Renee stood close by with the epipen, but she didn’t look too worried. Jean sat on the bed, monitoring his breathing, and enjoying the sweet taste spreading across his tongue.

‘Mmm,’ was his only comment. Jeremy responded with a noise that barely made it past his gritted teeth.

Jean felt a flicker of guilt at the expression on his face, but something about having everyone in the room egging him on made him reckless. And he’d wanted to know. He’d weighed up all the information - and taken into account the fact that he’d very likely already come into contact with nuts in his food, and just didn’t know it - and had also had a quiet discussion with Abby, which he wished now that he’d told Jeremy about beforehand. But Kevin was paying him attention and even Neil looked impressed.

‘Hey, did we miss it? Is he dead?’ It was Alvarez, with Laila on her heels. ‘Sorry, Laila wanted to get more scrambled eggs.’

Jeremy’s eyes widened. ‘There were scrambled - ‘

‘I got your back,’ said Laila, holding out a small metal bowl with a spoon sticking out. ‘Eat them while they’re kinda lukewarm.’

Jeremy grabbed the bowl and sat himself down on cot #1. ‘I’ll eat them when I know Jean isn’t dying,’ he said, flatly.

‘I’m fine,’ Jean said, softly. Jeremy wasn’t meeting his gaze.

As the minutes ticked by and Jean’s throat didn’t inflate and his skin didn’t change colour, they began to relax. Kevin came over to sit beside him - not to actually converse, because they had very little to talk about, but just to be near him, Jean figured. They rubbed shoulders companionably, and Jean felt satisfied that they at least still had this.

Allison and Neil were arguing back and forth about troop movements in the south, with Laila and Alvarez chiming in occasionally. Renee was watching Allison bitch and swear casually at Neil with the same expression that Jeremy got when he watched the sun set. His eyes drifted back to Jeremy, who was avoiding Jean’s gaze, and only occasionally picking at his little bowl of scrambled eggs, like his appetite was gone. Jean knew enough about Jeremy to know that this meant he was severely uncomfortable.

Half an hour passed, and Jean was still fine. Allison looked smug, Kevin exasperated, and Neil was already angling to leave.

‘I’m probably not going to die, so you can go tell Andrew he didn’t miss anything,’ Jean told Neil dryly.

‘Kevin,’ Neil said in response, jerking his head.

Kevin sighed quietly. He pressed his shoulder to Jean’s silently for a moment, either as a silent “glad you’re not dead” or in some form of solidarity, and then stood up to follow Neil out.

‘Don’t be such a sourpuss,’ Alvarez chided Jeremy gently, ruffling his hair. ‘You wanted him to kick back, right?’

Jean frowned slightly, glancing between the two of them. ‘What does that mean?’ he asked Laila, who was nearest.

Laila took the jar from him but only tossed it back and forth between her hands. She had a restless energy to her; Jean rarely recalled seeing her at rest.

‘Jeremy likes hearing you say “no”,’ she explained. ‘Ok, I’ve gotta go. There are too many of us in the same room. If something explodes and kills us all, the whole militia will fall apart.’

Alvarez shrugged. ’You can’t say she’s wrong. Then she gave Jeremy one last gentle shove before following Laila out of the room.

‘It can take up to two hours to have an allergic reaction to peanuts,’ Jeremy said sourly, watching them leave.

‘I know,’ Renee said. She set the epipen down next to Jeremy. ‘I’m taking your workload for the rest of the evening.’

‘You’re - ‘

‘It’s fine, Allison’s helping,’ Renee added.

Allison’s head jerked up. ‘I’m what?’

‘I’ll owe you,’ Jeremy promised Renee, looking at her seriously.

Renee just smiled at him, then headed towards the door. Allison made a few outraged noises, but she followed her about 10 seconds later.

Jean watched Jeremy, trying to gauge his mood. Sometimes Jeremy exaggerated to make his friends laugh, and wasn’t really as annoyed as he first appeared. The scrambled eggs were only half-finished; that was a bad sign. Jean felt a strong twist of anxiety and guilt, almost like a cramp in his stomach. He’d become very caught up in everyone egging him on, and Jeremy had always encouraged new activities before this - but was Jeremy actually angry at him? Had he overstepped. Jean suddenly felt sick. He couldn’t tell if it was from guilt or allergies.

He stood up uncertainly, and Jeremy snapped to attention. ‘What? Are you ok?’ he asked sharply.

Jean raised a hand. ‘I’m fine,’ he said, slowly. ‘I just …’

He wanted to sit next to Jeremy, but his brain quickly calculated several reasons why he couldn’t - not enough space on the bed at the angle Jeremy was sitting, Jeremy was mad at him, he might upset the bowl of eggs - so he just sat back down again and gripped one hand with the other.

Jeremy watched him, his mouth a flat line. Jean groped for something to say but came up empty. Maybe it was better if he just sat in silence. Jeremy was already annoyed enough as it was.

The minutes ticked by, finally turning into an hour. The more time passed between them, the worse Jean felt. His head drooped lower, and his brain began coming up with all sorts of consequences for his afternoon of stupidity.

No one came to disturb them. Jeremy occasionally shuffled and shifted his weight. He asked Jean a few times how he felt, and Jean responded “fine” each time. It was agonising.

Jeremy had evidently been watching the clock, because he finally sprang to his feet after an incredible age. Jean startled, having been lost in his own tortured thoughts, but didn’t have time to ask before Jeremy was standing in front of him, gripping Jean’s face with both hands.

‘Is it definitely two hours?’ he demanded.

Jean blinked. ‘Uh, yes.’

‘Thank god.’

Then Jeremy kissed him, hard. It was different from all of their other kisses. Jean could feel a tremor shivering through to his skin in all the places they were touching.

Jeremy broke the kiss, then pressed his forehead to Jean’s. The trembling was easing, but Jean’s inner turmoil and confusion only increased.

‘I have to go,’ Jeremy said, softly. There was a hint of a croak in his throat, like when he’d been sick. ‘Check in with …’

He didn’t bother with the full excuse. Jean just nodded miserably. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, as if it was worth anything. Jeremy had sacrificed so much to keep him safe, he had realised over the last hellish two hours. Jean clearly still had a lot to learn about how to be a human being, much less someone important in Jeremy’s life.

Jeremy hesitated, then kissed Jean again. This time, it was softer, more familiar.

‘Don’t be,’ he whispered. He kissed the corner of his mouth. ‘Please don’t be.’ Then he sighed. ‘I’m the one who’s sorry.’

This didn’t make any sense to Jean, but Jeremy had so many little quirks that he just let it slide as just something he didn’t yet understand.

‘See you tonight?’ Jeremy asked, watching Jean closely until he nodded. He’d been contemplating sleeping in the med bay rather than facing Jeremy again until he’d gotten his head together, but if Jeremy wanted him there then that’s where he’d be.

No one came by to distract Jean from himself for the rest of the evening, so after he picked listlessly at his dinner he did inventory and remade the beds and left sticky notes of his shaky handwriting for Abby on anything he’d changed or moved, so she wouldn’t be surprised if she turned up in the middle of the night (she often did). It was just busy work, to move his hands. Jean only paused to glare at the jar of peanut butter, forgotten by everyone except him.

When he could put it off no longer, he trudged towards bed. Never had he felt actual dread when approaching either bed or Jeremy. It was distinctly uncomfortable. The soft chat and laughter of those he passed only seemed to highlight their differences from him. They knew how to behave, how to act, what to do. They didn’t fuck things up because they had no practise being normal. Panicking wildly now, he convinced himself that he couldn’t even understand their words in plain English, and that Jeremy would kick him out of the room as soon as he arrived.

Trying to swallow down everything that currently comprised the person of Jean Moreau, he knocked first before entering.

‘Oh it’s you,’ Jeremy said, frowning from the bed, and Jean cringed hard before Jeremy clarified, ‘Since when do we knock? I thought you were Laila or something. She’s so afraid of seeing a dick that she knocks like ten times and shouts my name.’

Coming down from this new scare, Jean tried to steady himself as he prepared for sleep. Technically, this was not his room, but all of his stuff was here. His “stuff” comprised of several items of clothing and underwear, his hat and scarf, and the hand lotion Abby gave him, used sparingly. His books were there too, but they weren’t really his own.

Jeremy was reading some battered notes, probably from Coach, and worrying his lip with his teeth. For a brief moment Jean wanted to reach out and pull it away from harm. Jeremy sitting up in bed - _their_ bed - going over his work in a well-worn t-shirt and underwear, wrinkled socks on his feet and the blanket half-tossed over his knees … even in his present state, the sight loosened something in Jean’s chest. Under normal circumstances, he realised, this was the happiest place in his world.

‘You ready for sleep?’ Jeremy asked, glancing up at him. Jean was dithering, half changing his clothes and half sneaking glances at Jeremy.

‘One minute,’ he mumbled, hurriedly finding his sleep pants to cover his legs. He didn’t like looking at the old scars and patchy skin more than he had to.

In bed with the light off, Jeremy snuggled up as usual. There was no mention of what happened earlier, and Jeremy seemed to be acting normally enough. But Jean’s body was tense and rigid, unable to forget it. He kept expecting something that didn’t come, and the longer it didn’t come, the worse he felt. He bit his lip until he drew blood, and tried hard to focus on Jeremy’s scent and soft breathing, but it was no good.

‘Are you ok?’ Jeremy murmured in the dark.

‘Fine,’ whispered Jean, but his voice gave it away.

Jeremy stirred properly, shuffling a bit closer. ‘You sure?’ Then he paused, and said, ‘Jean, what's up?’

Jean didn’t trust himself to respond. He didn’t know what to _say_ , and just hoped Jeremy would take the lead.

Jeremy was used to reading Jean’s silences by now. He reached for Jean, getting one arm around his waist, and he made a noise when he felt how tense Jean’s stomach muscles were.

‘Are you _sick_?’ he demanded, voice rising.

‘No,’ Jean said hurriedly. ‘It’s not that.’

Jeremy nosed at his cheek, seeking the source of the problem. ‘Jean,’ he murmured. ‘Is this about earlier?’

When Jean didn’t reply, Jeremy’s body stiffened a degree.

‘It is, isn’t it?’ Suddenly, Jeremy sat up and turned on their crooked little lamp that perched on the windowsill. Jean blinked up at him, feeling exposed. Jeremy’s eyebrows were drawn together.

‘Jean,’ he said, seriously. ‘Can we talk about this?’

With a sigh, Jean sat up. He tried to act tired so that Jeremy wouldn’t notice his hands were shaking.

‘I’m not angry at you,’ Jeremy began, immediately. ‘I’m not, I swear. Do you think I am? Tell me what you’re feeling.’

Jeremy’s sudden anxiety was palpable, and he reached for Jean’s hands. His expression tightened.

‘I didn’t mean - ‘ Jean had to stop, and take a deep, steadying breath. ‘I’m sorry for doing something so stupid. So reckless. I owe you better than that. Just tell me what I have to do to make it up to you.’

Jeremy was clearly trying to control his expression. ‘You - no - Jean, you don’t have to do _anything_ ,’ he said. ‘This was your decision, and it’s your body. You can do whatever you want with it.’

 _But that’s not the issue_ , Jean thought, confused. ‘But, you saved me,’ he said.

‘I didn’t save you for myself,’ Jeremy said, eyes widening. ‘I saved you for _you_. I was mad and annoyed and kind of scared earlier because I love you and can’t stand the thought of losing you. But it’s not my decision. Like, if you’d grabbed a gun and headed outside with nobackup or protection I’d be pissed too - but not, like, kick-you-out-of-my-life pissed. This was a decision you made, and I’m proud of you for making it. And honestly, it seems like such a dumb thing to get mad about, especially when we had the epipen _right there -_ ’

Jeremy broke off with a little noise of frustration. After a moment of thought, in which the word _love_ bounced around inside Jean’s head making his ears ring, Jeremy began again.

‘I was just scared,’ he said. ‘But it was a total overreaction. I guess I’m not good at controlling myself with you yet. I’m sorry, Jean. I didn’t mean to make you feel like this.’

Jean had never considered that Jeremy might also still be learning things. It was a startling concept.

’Say something,’ Jeremy begged, squeezing his hands. ‘Are you ok? Are we ok? What else can I do?’

Jean shoved everything he’d just learned about Jeremy and love aside so that he could think for two seconds.

‘So,’ he began, haltingly. ‘You are not angry with me?’

Jeremy exhaled in a rush. ‘No, no I’m not,’ he said. ‘I totally overreacted, Jean.’

Jean nodded, slowly. ‘It was a stupid thing to do,’ he allowed.

‘Making stupid decisions is normal,’ Jeremy insisted. ‘We all do it. You’re allowed do it. That one might have ended badly, yeah, but … it’s your life, Jean. You can’t live it according to what I want, or anyone else.’

Jean nodded, accepting that this was what Jeremy believed and that it was probably true, even if he had trouble adhering to it.

‘But,’ he said. ‘It made you angry, and sad. I don’t want to do that. That makes _me_ sad. I almost didn’t come up here tonight, because I didn’t want to see what it looks like when you’re sad and it’s my fault.’

Jeremy dropped his forehead on to Jean’s shoulder and groaned. ‘Oh my god,’ he said. ‘No, Jean, please tell me to fuck off at least once,’ he said. ‘I was being a complete control freak.’ He paused, and raised his head. ‘You have trouble saying no to me,’ he said, slowly.

Jean nodded. That seemed to be the problem.

‘You did today … but it has caused this situation,’ Jeremy said, almost to himself, like he was figuring it out. ‘Ok, how about this. From now on, you gotta tell me no at least once a week. About anything.’

Jean didn’t think that would help, but Jeremy’s energy was making him smile.

‘Fair enough,’ he murmured. His hands weren’t shaking anymore, and he reached for Jeremy’s waist. Touching Jeremy brought him immeasurable comfort, and now that his body was relaxing it was easier to take it.

‘God, I’m so sorry about all of this,’ Jeremy said, leaning on him. ‘What a mess. Are you feeling better now?’

Jean nodded, because he was. This was a miscommunication, it seemed like. Jeremy didn’t hate him. Jeremy wasn’t annoyed. Jeremy was relaxed in his arms, pushing his nose against Jean’s neck, and Jeremy _loved_ him.

Sleep came much easier than Jean would have thought that night.


	7. Chapter 7

Neil rolled up to the med bay early the next morning. Jean had left Jeremy with the memory of a kiss, and he was feeling much better than he had been about the whole situation. But seeing Neil reminded him, and something clunked into his stomach, because this was an unexpected visit, and Neil never did anything without great cause.

‘Everything ok?’ Jean asked, his thoughts immediately jumping to Kevin.

Neil just nodded. ‘This is for you,’ he said, removing a small jar from inside his sweater pocket. Neil always wore his clothes too big, like he was trying to hide in them.

Jean tensed up, thinking of the peanut butter jar (now stashed in Abby’s office). But it wasn’t peanut butter.

‘Chocolate?’ Jean asked, confused. He accepted the jar. Chocolate was extremely scarce. ‘What’s this for?’

‘It’s for you,’ Neil said. His voice was toneless. ‘You and Jeremy. It’s an… apology.’

Jean was still confused. ‘You’re apologising?’

Neil tsked and rolled his eyes. ‘No, idiot. _You’re_ apologising. You freaked him out.’

Jean grimaced. ‘I know,’ he said, quietly.

‘You guys ok?’

Jean nodded. ‘Yeah, I think so,’ he said, turning the jar over in his hands. ‘Whose idea was this?’

‘Not mine,’ Neil said, with a meaningful look.

Kevin’s name weighed unspoken between them. Jean tried for levity.

‘Andrew is too kind,’ he sighed, unscrewing the cap and indulging himself with a sniff. When he looked up, he caught the tail end of Neil’s smile.

‘Keep it to yourselves,’ he warned Jean, as he put the cap back on. ‘There’d be a riot if anyone knew.’

‘Those are some serious perks,’ Jean commented.

Neil shrugged. ‘We’re not supposed to have any,’ he admitted. ‘Socialist society, etc. But …’ He trailed off with an elegant little shrug. Neil’s eyes were fiercely blue, and in moments like this, Jean could see what so captivated Kevin.

‘Hey,’ he said, as Neil turned to leave. ‘Thank you.’

Neil nodded. ‘Catch up with him later.’

Jean took Jeremy outside that evening, skipping dinner. Jeremy complained good-naturedly, feeling the cold and wanting his dinner.

The sun was setting. Jean held Jeremy’s hand and produced the chocolate with the other. He forgot to look at the sunset as Jeremy’s face lit up. He wasn’t even mad about the contraband.

Dipping a finger into the jar, Jeremy brought it to his lips. Then he changed his mind, and put it to Jean’s.

Jean sucked Jeremy’s finger into his mouth, licking the chocolate off and watching Jeremy’s face. When he could speak again, he said, ‘You said you love me.’

Jeremy’s beautiful brown eyes held Jean’s steadily. ‘I did,’ he said. ‘I do.’

Jean had spent the day thinking about what that might mean for him. He’d examined examples of other people’s love that he’d witnessed, most notably since he’d arrived at Palmetto, and compared it to what he himself felt about Jeremy, and tried to draw conclusions. At the end of it all, he realised nothing he had seen thus far came even remotely close to how he felt about Jeremy, and decided to draw a line under the whole thing and step forward bravely by himself.

‘I love you too,’ he told Jeremy, touching his cheek gently. Jeremy smiled, and turned his face to press against Jean’s hand.

*

But thanking Kevin turned out to be a lot more difficult than making up with Jeremy had been. He was more elusive than ever, always disappearing around corners whenever Jean thought he’d caught him.

‘He’s busy,’ Neil said, evasively, when Jean finally collared him at breakfast one morning.

‘Doing _what?_ ’ Jean wondered to Jeremy, who could only shrug.

‘Dunno,’ he said. ‘Best guess is something to do with the troop movements back east. Kevin’s got a good head for strategy, same as Coach.’

Jean understood that, but it didn’t explain why Kevin seemed to be actively avoiding him.

They were eating lunch together and taking their time about it. Things were quiet in the med bay; Jean had it all running smoothly now, and Abby could page him if she had an emergency. Jean wore the little page proudly on his belt, feeling very important whenever it went off, even if it was just Abby’s code for “get me coffee”.

Jeremy had an elbow on the back of Jean’s chair, and he was running his fingers idly through Jean’s hair. It wasn’t quite the sensuous little scratches he gave Jean in bed, but it was close.

‘You haven’t caught up with him in a while?’ he asked.

Jean murmured a no, not wanting to shake his head and dislodge Jeremy’s hand.

‘I wanted to update him, I guess,’ he said. ‘Hear about what he’s doing.’ He paused, then added wryly, ‘Once again, he’s upstairs where I can’t keep an eye on him.’

Jeremy smiled, but Jean could see him thinking. ‘Maybe now that you’ve had, like, a period of separation,’ he mused, fingers grazing Jean’s neck. ‘Maybe some of your issues might have, like, resolved themselves, you know?’

Alvarez, on the other side of the table, snorted loudly. Jeremy threw her an exasperated look.

‘As if,’ she added, as though her skepticism had not been clearly articulated. Jean knew she liked to tease, so he ignored her.

‘Shut up,’ Jeremy said, idly. His hand had stalled, briefly.

‘Did you hear what Allison calls them?’ Alvarez said to Renee.

‘I don’t care,’ Jean said, clearly.

‘The _folie a deux,_ twins.’

Renee made a tiny nose. ‘She’s dreadful.’

Her tone was light, but Jean caught her quick look towards Jeremy.

Jean didn’t know that reference so he still didn’t care. ‘Whatever,’ he said, more concerned with Jeremy’s silence.

‘It’s nothing,’ Jeremy said, quietly. His fingers began their work again on the back of Jean’s head.

That more than anything piqued Jean’s interest, but Alvarez’s shit-eating grin was still begging for a reaction so he played it cool and let himself relax under Jeremy’s careful touch.

That evening, they did their usual walk around the grounds, both of them bundled up in scarves and hats, and talked about stars and space travel and steaks, and then finished up with some kissing under a rickety structure known as “the bleachers”, which for some reason made Jeremy a little giggly.

But when they were about to go their separate ways - Jeremy had to check in with Coach before bed - Jean caught his hand.

‘Tell me something,’ he said, trying to ask it with just his eyes.

Jeremy sighed. ‘You still thinking about it?’

It wasn’t bothering Jean - but he did want to know, so he nodded.

Jeremy watched him for a few seconds, then smiled and beckoned to him.

They sat down on the stairwell, their gloves tucked into their pockets. Unlike other parts of Palmetto, these stairs were part of the main thoroughfare. People were assigned to clean and sweep them regularly. Palmetto was full of people, and idle hands made trouble, Jeremy said. The hustle and bustle settled Jean; it was a familiar atmosphere, but with more smiling and less fear. No one needed supervision, or intimidation.

Jeremy clasped his hands together and adopted that calm, measured expression that used to settle Jean, but now made him think that something bad was coming.

‘Everyone knows that you, Kevin and Neil came out of the Nest together,’ Jeremy said, softly. ‘And I guess people have been telling stories about you. Specifically about you and Kevin.’

Jean frowned. ‘What kind of stories?’

Jeremy shrugged, with a sheepish expression. ‘People in here … Look, the folks who came out of the Nest are fitting in well, they really are. They’re used to hard work and routine, and they’re happy to be here because they’ve been through the worst of it. But some of the other people, who’ve been here longer …’ Jeremy shrugged. ‘A lot of people came over from the safe zones, or were brought in from sheltered groups living in secret. We don’t all get to carry weapons and go out into the world; some people just aren’t suited to it. So they’re working at their jobs, every day. Command tried their best to find suitable occupations for everyone, but some guys end up doing tasks they would have considered … menial, in their past lives. They were wealthy, working jobs that gave them power. Now they’re cooking dinners and driving trucks and doing laundry.’

He sighed. ‘We’ve tried to do our best to keep the peace in here. We bring in books, games, puzzles, anything at all we can scrounge to keep people entertained. But we don’t have the electricity levels for television or anything like that. We have to turn the lights off early in the winter. So people get … bored. They talk. And the people who came with you from the Nest had a lot to say about you three.’

Jean’s stomach fluttered unpleasantly. He tried to affect disinterest. ‘Really.’

‘It’s just stupid stuff,’ Jeremy said. ‘Most because - well, what happened with you in that room is the worst kept secret in Palmetto. But I think Kevin was getting a little defensive of you.’

Jean blinked. ‘What?’

Jeremy nodded. ‘I think there were even a few altercations. He and Neil argued about it - I think that’s why they haven’t been sitting together recently.’

How had Jean missed this?

‘Kevin was getting into fights?’ he asked. ‘ _My_ Kevin?’ It didn’t make any sense.

Jeremy gave him a little smile, but then shrugged. ‘No one’s really badmouthing you, Jean. I think they’re sort of … talking you up.’

‘What?’

‘They think you’re a hero. They think what you did was … cool.’

Jean’s stomach flipped. _Cool_. ’Is that a joke?’

Jeremy reached out and took his hand, knowing exactly the moment when Jean started to waver. ‘Jean, look. It’s like I said. People are bored, and they like to sensationalise things for entertainment. I don’t think anyone’s stupid enough to say it to your face.’

Jean was incredibly uncomfortable with this, but now something else struck him. ‘Why didn’t you tell me any of this?’

Jeremy’s expression tightened slightly, and Jean realised this is what he’d been expecting, and maybe fearing. ‘You were just doing so well,’ he said, softly. ‘I saw how difficult it was for you to move on from what happened. You worked so hard to get to where you are now …’ Jeremy hesitated, then added, ‘And you hadn’t spoken about Kevin in a while. I know you guys have a bond … but I thought that maybe you were trying to get some space from him.’

Jean digested this quietly. He knew that, rationally, Jeremy did not deserve any of his anger for this. Being talked about in that way was definitely an unpleasant concept, but it wasn’t anything Jean was going to get upset over. Kevin, on the other hand … Kevin was personal. Jean felt an old flash of possessiveness. Kevin was supposed to be _his_. Why had Kevin been avoiding him? Why hadn’t he come to him about any of this?

They sat in silence for a little while. Jean knew Jeremy needed to go, but he couldn’t let go of his hand.

‘Folie a deux,’ he muttered eventually, and Jeremy sighed.

‘I can’t remember what it means literally,’ he admitted. ‘But it’s some sort of mental illness. Where two people share the same … psychosis, I think, or delusion.’ His forehead creased as Jean looked at him. ‘It’s nothing, Jean, honestly. Nothing to even think about. It’s just gossip.’

Jean sighed, trying not to feel bad about that

‘Jean.’

‘Yes?’ He swung his gaze tiredly back towards Jeremy.

‘I love you.’

Warmth crept through Jean’s chest like a gentle flush, and he hardly realised he was smiling.

They went to bed, hand in hand, and Jean thought all was well until Jeremy fell asleep and rolled away from him.

Gossip it may be, but it dogged Jean’s thoughts. After a few hours fruitless tossing and turning, he decided that the only thing that would change anything inside his mind was talking to Kevin. Jean clenched his fists on top of the bedsheets and reflected on Jeremy’s words.

Sometimes it still didn’t seem real, that he was here. He’d find himself looking over his shoulder while taking an idle moment in the medical bay or lingering in the hall. Long minutes spent trying to decipher some of Abby’s notes gave him an itch at the back of his neck, as his body unconsciously readied itself for the slap or blow he was sure to receive for the time wasted.

That old fear of being too strange, too out of place, crept up inside him again. He’d thought he’d been doing well, but it now the regular people had spotted something in him and Kevin that didn’t match up to everyone else. A similarity between the two of them that created a difference between them and everyone else.

Early the next morning, Jean found himself standing outside the room where he thought Kevin slept. Jean couldn’t be sure who was inside. They three didn’t want to be separated, but equally sometimes couldn’t stand the sight of each other, with Andrew being particularly capricious. Jean didn’t worry about it; something about all of that made sense to him.

He knocked, waited through the few minutes of resulting silence, then knocked again.

Andrew finally answered the door. His blonde hair was tousled, and although he barely came up to Jean’s shoulder he looked more than ready to fight. But then Neil’s hand appeared on his shoulder. In an instant, Andrew’s sharp gaze was upon him, and Neil quickly dropped his hand but stood his ground.

‘It’s just Jean,’ he said.

He and Andrew had a silent battle of the wills while “just Jean” stood by, wondering if speaking would mean death. Eventually Andrew brushed past them both and disappeared around the corner. Neil didn’t look too concerned; this may be normal Andrew behaviour.

‘He’s still asleep,’ Neil said, jerking his head back towards the bedroom. Waking Kevin this early meant he’d be in an undoubtedly terrible mood, if he he even deigned to wake at all. But this couldn’t wait.

The room was warmer than Jean’s normally was, likely because there had been three bodies to heat it where there should have only been two. There was very little room to move, because its occupants had pushed the two single beds together. Kevin was asleep against the wall, his bare back and shoulders on display, his head tousled on the pillow. Neil was only half-dressed himself, and the room smelled a type of way that would have once made Jean blush.

‘Late night?’ quipped Jean.

Neil returned only a flat stare. Jean thought he’d leave, but instead he perched himself on the low dresser in the corner and folded his arms. For a bizarre moment, it was just the three of them again, and it felt like it too. Kevin sleeping, Neil unreadable, and Jean slightly exasperated at both of them.

Jean turned his attention back to the matter at hand. ‘Kevin,’ he said. He kept his voice low. ‘Kevin?’

‘Why don’t you talk even quieter,’ Neil said. ‘Then you definitely won’t wake him up.’

Jean made a face Neil couldn’t see, and then kicked the bedpost. ‘Kevin!’

Kevin bolted awake with a gasp, simultaneously flinging a pillow at Jean, who dodged. ‘What? Where - ’

‘It’s me,’ Jean said quickly, before Kevin could panic.

His guilt was short-lived. Once Kevin’s eyes had focused, his expression turned sour. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘This can wait.’

He lay back down and rolled over, showing Jean his back. Jean looked back at Neil, bemused, and caught the tail end of something like sadness on Neil’s face.

Jean sighed and turned back to Kevin, who wasn’t even bothering to feign sleep. So Jean hopped into the bed next to him, ignoring Neil’s little gasp of protest. Kevin’s body stiffened; maybe they’d both thought Andrew’s lingering presence - amongst other things - would force Jean to keep his distance. Had it really been so long since the Nest?

‘Kevin,’ he murmured. Leaning down, he butted Kevin’s shoulder gently with his forehead. ‘Come on.’

‘What,’ grumbled Kevin into the pillow.

‘I hear you’ve been fighting,’ Jean said.

‘Where’d you hear that?’ Kevin asked. ‘All your new friends?’

Jean blinked in confusion. ‘I just wanted to talk to you about it.’

Kevin scoffed. ‘Why bother?’

Jean rolled his eyes. He reached out and grabbed Kevin’s shoulder, pulling him on to his back. Kevin struggled and pushed his hand away, and Jean slapped back. ‘Stop,’ he grunted. ‘Don’t be such a - brat - ‘

Kevin sat all the way up and smacked Jean on the head. Jean’s shock must have shown on his face, because Kevin let out a snort of laughter before he could stop himself.

Jean gave him a look of exasperation and pushed his hand away, but something had softened between them. Kevin still looked cross, but there was something vulnerable about him sitting there, bare-chested with sleepy eyes. Something inside Jean winched tight.

‘I’m sorry I haven’t been around,’ he said, softly. He’d wrestled with it all night, and even though he’d been busy with work and Jeremy and trying to avoid his own demons, he had definitely, consciously, been avoiding Kevin and Neil. The two strongest links to the darkest part of his past.

Kevin looked at him cautiously. ‘Everything’s different now,’ he said, slowly. ‘Everyone was saying that you killed Riko. And you almost died doing it. And then … you just weren’t around anymore.’

Jean’s hands and feet went cold at the very mention of it, and he simultaneously wanted Jeremy and was grateful he wasn’t here to witness whatever was about to happen.

‘I thought it might be our fault,’ Kevin confessed, softly. Behind them, Neil shifted slightly on the dresser. ‘You did it to save us.’

Jean looked away. ‘I did it because I had no other choice,’ he said, with difficulty. ‘You were already gone.’

‘Laila said you made them all leave first,’ Neil interjected. ‘She said that you wanted to stay behind.’

‘Why would you want that,’ Kevin murmured. Jean couldn’t look at him.

‘Did you want to die?’ Neil asked.

‘No,’ Jean snapped, heart sinking.

‘But you were ready to.’

‘I already told you - it was more important that you all get away safely.’

Neil nodded, as though Jean had confirmed something. ‘That’s what I told Kevin,’ he said, quietly. ‘You were always like that.’

Jean didn’t know how to respond to that, so he turned back to Kevin instead.

‘Did you think I wanted to die?’ he asked, quietly.

Kevin just looked back at him. ‘You’ve been avoiding us,’ he said. ‘You killed Riko for us.’

Jean stared back, slowly beginning to understand. ‘You think I resent you for that?’

Kevin and Neil just stared back at him.

‘I don’t.’

More stares.

Jean sighed loudly. ‘I would have died to get you two out of the Nest. Shut up, that’s what it’s called,’ he snapped, when Kevin flinched. ‘And maybe I needed some space here, ok? I thought you might have been the same.’

Jean let that settle, folding his hands in his lap. Neil was staring at the floor, and Kevin had drawn his knees up to his chin. He still looked skinny. Jean had put on a little weight. Jeremy seemed to love it; he’d slapped Jean’s ass one morning as he was getting out of bed and made a loud noise of appreciation. Jean had quite enjoyed the experience.

‘Why were you fighting?’ he asked Kevin, softly.

Kevin looked back at him. ‘Because they were making it sound like you’d enjoyed it,’ he replied. ‘And I knew you didn’t. I knew what it would have done to you.’

Jean’s heart squeezed in his chest, and he was reminded so strongly of the small, careful boy Kevin had once been. The Kevin who had always looked to Jean first for reassurance, whose eyes had always flickered in his direction, checking his reaction so he could match it accordingly.

‘You don’t need to,’ Jean said, quietly. ‘That’s why I wanted us to come here. So there would be no more fighting for you.’ He glanced at Neil. ‘Either of you.’

When Kevin pouted, Jean saw a hint of the Kevin of old, his stubborn brother. It made him smile.

‘What are you laughing at?’

Jean just shrugged. ‘Stop trying to defend my honour,’ he said, and Kevin gave him a shove.

Neil abruptly pushed off the dresser and came over to the bed. Jean thought he was going to kick him out, but instead he climbed in next to him. He settled against the backboard, legs stretched out alongside Jean’s. He was bare-chested, wearing a pair of loose, soft pants, similar to Kevin’s. His feet were clean. Neil, like Kevin, was much changed by Palmetto, though Neil looked like he was doing a little better.

‘I miss you two,’ Jean said.

The two made little murmurs in response, and Jean rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, don’t get all emotional now.’

Neil snorted, but what warmed Jean’s heart more than anything was Kevin’s soft touch on his arm.

They spent a little longer together, just talking. Jean wanted to hear about Kevin’s work the most, as Neil seemed to be firmly entrenched in the smuggling business and would give nothing away. Kevin’s voice got strange and affected whenever he talked about Coach. He stumbled over referring to him as his father, but he mentioned him often. They in turn wanted to know about Jean’s work with Abby; Jean gave them a few details to keep them happy, eager to turn the conversation back to Kevin. By the time Neil started to fidget, Jean realised he was late for work.

Kevin stiffened at once when Jean spoke it, and he saw in his eyes the same brief panic that Jean felt at the idea of being late.

‘You two really are mad,’ Neil said, and then gave them both one of his elusive smiles.

Jean was indeed late to work, but Abby barely registered it.

‘Just assumed you slept in,’ she shrugged, after Jean hurriedly apologised. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

Jean’s head knew that Abby was not going to punish him for being late, not like how he would have been punished at the Nest. Sometimes it just took his body a little longer to catch up.

Abby caught his expression and frowned. ‘I know you’re a hard worker,’ she said. ‘You take your work seriously, and you do it well. We cut each other slack here, Jean. Work hard, do your best, and we can forgive a lot.’ She paused, then added, ‘And while we’re being honest, I’d like you to take the occasional day off, too. Everyone else gets them.’

Jean blinked. ‘A day off what?’

Abby smiled. ‘Off work. As in, don’t come in. We can fix it so I know in advance when you won’t be here.’

Jean wracked his brains trying to imagine how he’d fill a whole day. ‘But what would I do?’

Abby made a face at him. ‘Well, I can think of a few things Jeremy might like to do, at least.’

That brought a flicker of excitement before Jean’s pessimistic brain quashed it. ‘Jeremy works. He has less free time than I do.’

Abby finally straightened up from what she was doing and looked Jean full in the face. ‘He works all the time,’ she said, ‘because you do too. There’s no call for it. He’s running himself off his feet. Maybe if you took a break it would encourage him to take one with you.’

Jean had never thought of it like that. He was used to working all day, every day.

‘Did people used to take days off - before?’

Abby nodded. ‘Two days a week, usually together,’ she said. ‘Depended on your job, though.’

Jean pondered this throughout the afternoon as he worked. A whole day off … Now that he had time to think, he was able to come up with several things he’d like to spend his time doing. He could read, for one thing; one of the many books Jeremy had scrounged up for him. Jean had little time for it these days, and he regretted it. He wanted to read one of these stories Jeremy was always telling him were worth his time.

And Jeremy … Could it be true that he wasn’t taking any rest because Jean did not? He wouldn’t believe it until he’d spoken to him. And so the afternoon passed slowly, Jean thinking of Jeremy and listening for footsteps in the hall.

Jeremy had bounced back from his cold with a vigour, but all that energy had gone into catching up on everything that had fallen behind in his absence. Having seen what was out there, Jean was quite glad that the work kept Jeremy inside the walls where it was safe, but the shadows under his eyes soon returned.

‘Have some more,’ he urged him, at dinner. They were in the dining hall for a change; it was Allison’s first meal with the rest of them. Understandably, she’d been somewhat nervous of crowds ever since arriving.

Jeremy looked amused as Jean pushed his own share of chicken towards him. ‘Just like old times, huh?’

‘Yeah,’ Jean said. ‘Only this time it’s not me who needs it.’

On the other side of the table, Renee’s hand rested on Allison’s free wrist. It might have looked like a tender gesture to the casual observer, but it was more to keep Allison from bouncing right off the chair.

‘Jean, I thought you said those pills would chill me out,’ she forced out between her teeth.

Jean shrugged, keeping one eye on Jeremy. ‘They can only help you so much,’ he said. ‘You need to actually try to calm down.’

He had no idea if that was true, but it was better than telling Allison that the dose had been mild on purpose. Abby lived in constant fear of allergic reactions and drug dependence.

‘What were you saying?’ Jeremy asked Jean, startling him.

‘What?’

‘You said you wanted to ask me something.’

Jean frowned, confused. He hadn’t meant to ask Jeremy out loud in front of everyone like this. ‘Did I really?’

Jeremy smiled. ‘No. But I can tell something’s on your mind.’

Jean blinked, then rolled his eyes. ‘Eat your dinner.’

Allison’s nerve could only hold for so long; she bolted out of the dining hall before they’d had dessert (apple pie, Jean’s favourite). Renee dashed after her, and Jean felt a flicker of mild concern before deciding that he was the last person Allison would want to see at this point.

‘You were saying?’ Jeremy said, butting in on his thoughts and making him laugh.

‘Fine, fine,’ he said, twisting sideways in his seat so he could look at him properly. Jeremy had dutifully cleared his plate and was looking peaceful and well-fed. Jean was very susceptible to that calming presence. It made him want to say all sorts of stupid things.

‘I was thinking,’ he said, ‘of taking a day off. Maybe once a week.’

Jeremy blinked. ‘Really?’

‘Abby heavily suggested I should.’

Jeremy smiled, lowering his gaze. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Have you any ideas what you would like to do with it?’

The fact that Jeremy did not immediately suggest taking a day off too threw Jean right off. Jeremy was not looking at him, but glancing around and down at his hands, like it was easier to say no if he wasn’t looking at him.

He decided to plough on regardless and trust that his instincts weren’t totally stupid. ‘She said that you might be inclined to take a day off too, if I did.’

Jeremy smiled down at his hands. ‘I would definitely be tempted.’

Jean felt a flicker of frustration. Jeremy wasn’t normally coy. Jean didn’t know how to deal with coy.

‘Well, it was just an idea,’ he said, clattering his cutlery around on his plate, trying not to feel irritable.

Jeremy let them sit in silence for a few more minutes, and Jean considered just getting up and walking away from the situation rather than admit that he’d somehow gotten it all wrong again.

‘I feel like I’ve been letting you down,’ Jeremy said, quietly.

Jean turned his head swiftly. ‘What?’

Jeremy wasn’t being coy, he realised.

‘You have not,’ Jean insisted, without thinking. And then, ‘What do you mean?’

Jeremy gave a little sigh and shifted around in his seat. ‘Well, I made you all these promises,’ he said. ‘I know I’ve said this before, and we’ve made some attempts, but isn’t this … so boring for you?’

‘What?’

Jeremy looked a little frustrated now. ‘I mean - this is it. This is all I brought you to. I don’t know why I thought it would be any different - I guess maybe I’m just frustrated with myself. I used to be out in the field a lot more, sometimes for weeks at a time. Things were more exciting then.’

Jean digested this. Around them, the dining hall was starting to clear. They were never normally here so late, and Jean noticed it had a faint echo when there were so few people in it.

‘Can you change that?’ he asked.

‘Would you want me to?’ Jeremy shot back, swiftly.

That shut him up. ‘No,’ he said, eventually. ‘I wouldn’t enjoy seeing less of you.’ He paused, and thought a little more. ‘But if you were happier when I did see you … then that’s all that matters.’

Jeremy ducked his head, and they stayed quiet for a little while. Both were reluctant to leave the space; Jean felt like exiting this bubble of conversation might disrupt some vital flow. 

‘I might not be able to change it,’ Jeremy admitted, finally.

Jean had been deeply afraid of this, but he had managed to push it so far back in his mind that he’d almost forgotten it was there.

‘Ok,’ he said, not really knowing what else to say.

Jeremy took his hand. ‘But until then,’ he said, voice growing stronger. ‘Can we take that time together?’

Jean gripped his hand tightly, then leaned in to touch Jeremy’s face. ‘Yes,’ he said, brushing his thumb over his cheekbone.


	8. Chapter 8

The next few weeks slipped into a new pattern, one punctuated with whole days where Jean didn’t go to the med bay, and instead got to do whatever he wanted. Sometimes he read. Sometimes he visited Katelyn or Allison, accompanying them for walks or on errands. He was getting better at reading and writing every day. He had even discovered the joys of “sleeping in”, a concept hitherto unknown to him. This was, of course, only really enjoyable when Jeremy was with him.

Since Jeremy had a much more complicated work life than Jean, he let him set their days off. This meant Jeremy was less likely to skip one, because Jean wouldn’t take one without him.

‘No,’ Jean had said, clearly and firmly, the first time Jeremy had run through his diary and come up with no blank spaces. ‘I’ll wait until you’re free.’

Jeremy had opened his mouth to protest, but then he paused, and smiled.

‘Ok,’ he said. ‘And good word use.’

It was very hard to tell Jeremy no in any situation, but Jean worked hard to find loopholes like this one.

They did almost everything together. Now that Jean was so much more comfortable in the environment at Palmetto they had no trouble knocking around the place together and causing trouble. Jeremy snuck him into the kitchens one night and bribed one of the cooks to make Jean a grilled cheese sandwich - his first ever.

‘Thank god we still have supply chains running to the interior,’ Jeremy said, cutting the gooey sandwich in two. ‘Cheese would be beyond us, seeing as how we have no cattle.’

It was ironic, Jean thought, that he had spent years of his life tending to cows and other livestock that apparently made cheese and other fine foods, but had never had the privilege of tasting any.

‘You like?’ Jeremy asked.

Jean’s mouth was too full of delicious hot cheese to respond, so he just nodded vigorously and tried to hold in a little moan of pleasure.

Another day they spent in the dusty old Palmetto library. Jeremy took Jean to the fiction section and introduced him to stories. Previous to this, all of Jean’s books had been medical books, encyclopaedias, and kids books with stories like “See Jane Run”, etc. They curled up on a squashy, slightly damp soft together and Jeremy read to him in his soft, measured voice. For Jean, it was more of a sensual experience; feeling Jeremy’s legs thrown over his own, his arm around his shoulder, his hair brushing his chin. Jean wrapped his arms around him and followed along as best he could. Often, the story was interrupted so that they could kiss, which they did, at length. It was idyllic. It was long, delicious hours of nothing but Jeremy’s company, his voice and his laughter and his body.

It couldn’t last forever. Evenings of holding hands and telling stories, snatched early mornings cuddling in bed, nights wandering around outside the stars. They had been blessed with this time together. But Jeremy was too good at his job.

It was very early in the morning. Jean’s nose was pressed against Jeremy’s back, his arm slung around his slim waist, and he was jolted rudely awake by loud knocking on the door. Jeremy, the calmer sleeper by far, didn’t wake, so it was up to Jean to see what was happening.

Laila was on the other side of the door. Her expression was grim as she nodded towards the bed. ‘Wake him.’

Jean’s first instinct was to shut the door in her face.

‘Why?’ he said, suspiciously.

Laila’s mouth twisted. ‘It’s important, Jean. Coach’s orders.’

Jean would enjoy telling Coach and all the rest of them to fuck right off, but Jeremy was already stirring behind him.

‘Jean, what is it?’ he mumbled, struggling to sit up.

Jean sighed, and looked back to Laila. ‘He barely sleeps as it is,’ he said, in a low voice.

Laila shrugged. ‘I know.’

Jeremy had sensed the tone, and was half out of bed when Jean turned around again. He got one look at Laila and silently started dressing.

‘Duty calls,’ he murmured, going for a kiss, missing, and getting Jean’s ear instead. Jean gave him a quick squeeze and watched him retreat down the hall, getting Laila’s report as he buckled his belt and tucked in his shirt. One of his laces was undone, and his hair was flattened on one side. Jean’s body remembered Jeremy’s, and missed it deeply.

Jean went back to bed because it was basically still the middle of the night. Jeremy didn’t come back to bed. Jean breakfasted with Allison, who was absent Renee.

‘You look wrecked,’ she stated.

‘Didn’t get much sleep,’ mumbled Jean over his cereal. He was told that the milk was from a can and the cereal was stale, but Jean had never had the alternative , and he didn’t like to be interrupted.

Allison smirked. ‘Oh ho.’

‘Shut up,’ Jean said, without missing a beat. ‘Laila came for Jeremy in the middle of the night.’

Allison didn’t immediately come back with another jibe, and Jean looked up with a frown.

‘Renee left - too,’ she stammered out. Jean was sure it was more to do with admitting she’d been sleeping with her, but they both looked at each other and analysed that.

‘Something’s up,’ she said, a hard look in her eyes.

Jean had to agree.

He didn’t see Jeremy again until late that night. When he did, he knew immediately that this period of relative safety had come to an end.

‘We’re going out again,’ Jeremy said quietly, settling in next to Jean in Abby’s vacant office, where Jean was doing paperwork. He hadn’t eaten, but didn’t immediately reach for the food Jean had saved him.

‘Where?’ Jean asked, his chest tightening.

Jeremy shrugged. He crossed his arms and bounced his leg. ‘Not sure yet. You’re not coming,’ he added. Jean opened his mouth but Jeremy kept going. ‘No arguing, Jean. Can’t risk you out there.’

Jean couldn’t immediately respond. After a beat, Jeremy followed up with, ‘We’re not looking for a fight.’

Jean’s heart was sinking, even so. It wasn’t the news he’d hoped for.

‘But what will you do if someone dislocates their shoulder,’ he asked finally, for lack of anything better to say.

Jeremy gave him a small, tired smile. ‘Well, you might have to teach us a thing or two.’

It turned out that Coach was of the same mind. Now that he had two medics who were sufficiently trained and could hold down the fort, he wanted anyone going out into the field to get some basic medical training. Jean had to admit that this was just good sense, but he was cranky about it on principle.

Over the next few days, Jean and Abby had their hands full with teaching gun-happy idiots how to do a tourniquet and recognise a concussion and which arteries were the bad arteries. Jean was extraordinarily bad at the teaching aspect of it. He disliked the idea of the mission so much that Abby had to kick him out of the med bay.

‘Go into my office and do your paperwork’ she told him. ‘It takes you long enough as it is.’

That stung, but Jean knew he deserved it.

Jeremy laughed when he found him bent over his paperwork later, holding the pen like a knife.

‘That pen doesn’t hate you’ he chided him, taking his hand and straightening out Jean’s cramped fingers. ‘Take a break with me.’

Jean was happy to oblige. He watched Jeremy closely as he sat down on the other side of the little table. ‘Homework’s boring,’ he said, with a playful little smile.

‘I agree,’ Jean said, tossing down the pen. ‘So, have you come to learn?’

Jeremy shrugged. ‘I thought you could give me some private lessons.’

Jean took his hand across the table and enjoyed the shape of his fingers for a few minutes. When he looked up again, he saw the serious expression he’d been dreading.

‘Jean,’ he said, softly.

Jean signed. ‘When are you leaving?’

Jeremy’s fingers closed over Jean’s. ‘Tomorrow.’

Shutters went down inside Jean. ‘How long will you be gone?’

Jeremy’s mouth quirked thoughtfully. ‘A few weeks, maybe. We’ve done as much recon as we can. It’s a similar situation to the Nest, actually. But on a different scale. It’s like … a city, almost. Full of camps. The images are pretty troubling.’

Jean didn’t really want to hear any more about it. He didn’t want to hear about the other people who needed Jeremy’s help. His chest felt uncomfortably tight again.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ he asked, finally.

Jeremy sighed. He appeared to think about it for a while, as his fingers tangled themselves up in Jean’s, tracing his knuckle bones and drawing warm trails across the back of his hands.

‘No,’ he said, eventually. He looked up and met Jean’s eyes. ‘I don’t want to talk about it. Not tonight.’

Abby let Jean go after he’d turned in the rest of his paperwork, and didn’t even comment on the scrawling excuse for letters. Jeremy was waiting for him. He’d been told to get some rest, but the look in his eye told Jean he did not intend to follow that order.

Hand in hand, they made their way through Palmetto’s halls. Jean’s heart was beating a little faster than the mild exertion called for. It felt a bit like how Jean used to get before he would visit Jeremy in the boiler room. A little uncertain, a little nervous. Very happy nonetheless. It was even better now, because Jeremy’s hand was in his and Jean loved him, and was loved in return.

It was dark outside, and so it was dark in their room. They didn’t bother turning on the dim overhead light; instead, Jeremy turned to Jean as soon as the door was closed and took his face gently in his hands, and kissed him.

Jean didn’t have to do any thinking. Right now, there was nothing to worry about. His hands were on Jeremy’s waist and their bodies were pressed together and they were kissing. It was just him and Jeremy, nothing but Jeremy. Jean’s blood sang in response. He felt flushed and strong and in control.

His pulse picked up when Jeremy started leading him towards the bed. He could feel the tension in Jeremy’s limbs, his restless energy and the intent in his touches, and knew that he wanted to be intimate tonight.

And Jean did too. He wanted to see Jeremy flushed and excited, and to see how his body looked underneath Jean’s. They’d come close before, but Jeremy had always pulled back with a little smile and a reassurance that it was ok, they didn’t have to do anything. Jean had always been a little relieved, but a little disappointed too. He was just too busy to figure out sex, really. Now that he was thinking about it, he thought he’d be ok with taking the first few steps, if it was with Jeremy.

Jeremy, who made him brave, and made him remember he was alive.

Jeremy pulled him down on to the bed. They sat side by side, shuffling and trying to get into a position conducive to kissing. Jeremy kept trying to get his hands into Jean’s hair. Katelyn had given him a haircut a few weeks ago, but he was due another; it was longer on top, and Jeremy’s fingers dug in eagerly.

Jean’s hand dropped to Jeremy’s thigh and rested there quite comfortably. He pushed it up a little higher, then higher still. Jeremy made an eager little noise and pulled him closer, kissing him passionately. Jean’s heart was pounding joyously in his chest; he loved the feel and shape of Jeremy beneath his hand. He wanted to feel all of him.

‘We, ah.’ Jeremy pulled back briefly, just far enough from Jean’s lips to get words out. ‘We don’t have to, uh.’

He was breathless, and kept stopping to kiss. Jean was scarcely less eager to let him pull away, and he knew what Jeremy was going to say anyway.

‘I want to.’ It was all Jean would spare the time or effort to say.

Taking control, he put a hand to Jeremy’s chest and pushed him backwards on the bed. Jeremy shuffled further back, getting his legs up and pulling Jean after him. His legs opened, inviting Jean to crawl between them and settle himself down. They resumed kissing, exploring with their hands more than they ever had before. Jean found that Jeremy was both hard and soft. The swell of his biceps and the tops of his thighs were strong and muscled, and Jean could feel his strength and intent in them. But his stomach, his wrists, the curve of his neck … impossibly soft. Almost fragile. Jeremy was vulnerable in these parts, and he was inviting Jean to touch all of them.

Jean braced his arms on either side of Jeremy’s head, their legs tangled together, and kissed him with renewed energy. He could see Jeremy’s face more easily now; his eyes star-bright, his lips soft and swollen from Jean’s kisses.

The heat rose up between them. Jeremy’s hands came up and slid into Jean’s hair again, and his hips canted up towards Jean, who didn’t know the rules or how any of this went but could only listen to his body, and thrust his own hips down to meet him.

Judging by Jeremy’s vocal response, Jean was doing something right.

It was impossible to ignore the growing hardness between them now. Jean could feel Jeremy pressing against his thigh, his own uncomfortably tight inside his trousers. This would have alarmed him before, thrown him off even. But he wasn’t afraid with Jeremy. Jean was in control here.

Taking control felt good.

He let his hand trail down the length of Jeremy’s body, and then inside his clothes.

Jeremy’s hands tightened in Jean’s hair as Jean’s hand touched his hardness, and then stilled. They held fast for a moment, shuddering, and then Jeremy kissed him hard and startled them both back to life.

Jeremy pushed up against Jean’s hand. Jean only knew what to do with his own dick. He’d heard Kevin and Neil often enough - it was impossible to avoid when you lived so closely together - and as far as he could tell they all had different rhythms. These had been dispassionate observations in the past, because neither Kevin nor Neil interested him sexually in the slightest. Now, however, as he moved his fist slowly back and forth, he found himself making a mental category of every little response Jeremy gave him. He withdrew his hand quickly to give it a brief lick, so as to make the slide smoother, but Jeremy startled the life out of him by snatching his hand before it could return to its work. Jean’s mouth formed the words to ask the question, but Jeremy answered him by licking a broad swipe over Jean’s palm, holding his gaze the whole time.

Jean’s mouth went so dry he couldn’t have helped in the slightest. Jeremy slipped Jean’s fingers into his mouth and sucked, and it was so heady Jean felt his own mouth drop open. All the blood in his body fled south, and it took him a moment to realise he was making a sort of low moan in his throat.

‘Mmhm,’ Jeremy murmured, eyes sparkling. He drew Jean’s fingers out of his mouth slowly, pausing with just the fingertips resting inside. His mouth curved into a smile.

With a rush of feeling, Jean took back his hand and reached down for Jeremy again. With his free hand he stretched up to Jeremy’s hair, pulling gently so that his neck was exposed. He leaned over and latched on to it with his mouth, kissing and sucking until Jeremy writhed beneath him. His hand movements were slow and unsure, and likely highly inexpert. Then Jeremy’s hands were working at undoing Jean’s trousers and slowly, carefully, moving to their own purpose.

It was intense. Jean was running out of ways to describe it to himself. It had never occurred to him that sex could be _this_. He felt strong and sure of himself, and utterly in control. Jeremy, beautiful, beneath him, responsive to his every touch. He was perfect, heartbreakingly so.

And far from the muffled, secretive climaxes Jean was used to, hidden in the dark at night, Jeremy’s scraped past his throat and became full-bodied between them. He was unashamedly loud, starling Jean at first but then becoming just one more thing to chase with a restless hunger. Jean brought him off with a thrill that set his blood on fire. He captured Jeremy’s mouth with his own so that he might taste that pleasure. His own orgasm was almost forgotten until Jeremy’s fingers twitched around him again, cleverly working Jean right up to the edge and pushing him over. Jean buried his face in Jeremy’s neck and couldn’t suppress a cry of his own. Oh, the delight in pressing himself against another body. Jeremy’s hands held him, allowing him to fall apart.

Even after it was over, Jean’s heart was beating so fast he couldn’t speak. Eventually he realised he should get off Jeremy, and rolled over so they were lying side by side again. As soon as there was air between them again, Jean regretted it. Jeremy must have felt the same, because he reached out and splayed a hand over Jean’s stomach, fingers just grazing his hip bone. Jean shifted and moved a little closer; their heads tilted sideways, and Jean rolled his body a little further until their foreheads were touching.

The air between them was heady, the scent thick with sex, with this thing they’d done together. That in itself was huge and exciting, but it was more than that. It stirred something else inside Jean. Something deeper, that trembled whenever he looked at Jeremy, or touched him.

‘Are you ok?’ Jeremy asked. Jean was gratified to hear that he sounded about as wrecked as Jean felt.

‘Yes,’ he replied, quiet. ‘Are you? I mean … was that ok … ?’

Jeremy actually snorted. ‘Oh, sweetheart,’ he said, half-laughing. ‘Didn’t you _hear_ me? Oh man, I bet the neighbours did …’ Then he snorted again. ‘God, that feels _normal_.’

Question not quite answered, Jean nevertheless felt reassured, especially when Jeremy curled his body up against his and started nuzzling his cheek. Jean felt a stupid smile spread across his face as his insides filled with warmth. Now that the last remnants of uncertainty had left him, he was started to feel very, very satisfied.

‘I didn’t know if you were going to be ready for something like that,’ Jeremy murmured, fingertips trailing across his chest. ‘You sure you’re ok?’

Something seized up in Jean’s chest again, something that he couldn’t ignore. He grabbed Jeremy and pulled him right up against him and kissed him, feeling like he couldn’t possibly do anything else. Jeremy’s body instantly reacted and kissed him back, although Jean could feel his lips curving into a smile.

As he had guessed, there was more to sex than just the doing of it. He and Jeremy kissed for a long while more, as the night stretched out ahead of them. Occasionally they would stop to talk, usually about each other. Jean, feeling oddly emotional, simply had to tell Jeremy how beautiful he thought his eyes were - ‘They sparkle like stars’ - and how badly he wanted to touch him, at all times. He felt very stupid afterwards, but Jeremy received all compliments with very good grace - although he had to bury his face in Jean’s neck after being told he once made Jean’s pulse quicken so suddenly just by entering the room and smiling at him that Jean had bitten his own tongue.

‘Does that embarrass you?’ Jean asked him, as Jeremy squirmed. Rather than answer, Jeremy reached for him again.

Afterwards, they were truly exhausted, and talking became impossible.

‘I love you.’ Jeremy would murmur it constantly, his lips all over Jean’s body. A little chorus, a duet between the two of them.

‘How did you resist this for so long?’ Jean marvelled, almost to himself. ‘Lying beside me every night for weeks?’ His hands were moving restlessly over Jeremy’s body like he’d never be able to do anything else.

‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ Jeremy said, solemnly, and then they laughed quietly together.

Jean never wanted the night to end, but of course it did, as they all must. He forced Jeremy to get some sleep by pushing him all the way over to the other side of the bed. It didn’t work; Jeremy crawled right back over and plastered himself over Jean’s body, and Jean simply didn’t want to stop him.

Dawn, and the knock on the door, came too soon.

They were leaving quietly, with no fanfare. Jeremy made Jean stay in bed. He kissed him goodbye, safe in Jean’s arms. He didn’t make any promises that everything would be ok, because they would be no good to Jean, who knew better.

‘I’ll miss you,’ he said, instead, holding Jean’s face so gently, as though he were breakable.

‘Miss you too,’ mumbled Jean, trying not to let his misery show. Even the afterglow of their night together couldn’t make this moment suck any less. ‘Please be careful,’ he added, quietly.

‘I will,’ Jeremy said. He sounded serious enough that Jean believed him. ‘Keep the bed warm for me.’

Then, with another kiss, and another whisper of love, he was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I literally forgot I still had to post this. 
> 
> To anyone who's still reading this absolute garbage, SORRY and THANK YOU.

Time passed.

If communications were coming in from Jeremy’s team, Jean was not someone who got to share in that information. Although the mission team was comprised of only eight people, Palmetto seemed emptier. Jean slipped into a rhythm that technically did not cause him any stress or mental anguish, or physical harm. He went to work. He learned, he read, he helped people. Abby fed him as much information as he could take; past cases she’d worked on, common medical conditions that they might face in the winter months, and anything else she could think of. Other, darker scenarios that they had to prepare for; what it looked like when a body was starved of vitamin C, of protein, of sunlight. Jean kept asking questions; he wanted to go to bed with his head so full of facts and questions that he didn’t have time to miss Jeremy.

Laila and Alvarez were gone too, along with the twins, Dan and Matt, and Katelyn. She had been an odd inclusion, one that Jean had been wondering about until Allison had finally let him in on it.

‘She’s from the area,’ she said, darkly. ‘She knows the terrain, and probably the people too.’

Now that she was almost 100% mobile, Allison’s mood had dramatically improved. It helped that Renee had stayed behind in order to pick up Jeremy’s slack. Even so, things were running much more smoothly, thanks to all of Jeremy’s hard work. She even joined them for dinner most days.

Eight days in and Jean had his first real emergency situation. Allison and Renee staggered in to the medical bay, on one of Abby’s rare nights off. Between them they were supporting a young woman who was running a fever and complaining of severe abdominal pain in all the places that would indicate an appendix about to burst. She wasn’t in the kind of excruciating pain that would indicate it had already burst, but then she vomited all over the floor and Jean decided the time to do a urine test had passed

He paged Abby immediately, but after that all he could do was jump to his feet and begin. With Renee and Allison as very nervous assistants, he got the girl into a bed and performed the preliminary tests. Abby had taught him all about appendectomies; she said they were pretty common, and it was bound to happen to someone.

By the time Abby arrived, Jean had already isolated the appendix, which was severely inflamed and close to bursting. Wordlessly, she stepped up and assisted.

Afterwards, she cuffed him around the head and told him that operating on someone without assistance or a second opinion at his level was an arrogant, rookie movie, and she’d taught him better than that. Then she’d clapped him on the shoulder and told him she’d buy him a drink if bars and money still existed. Jean told her he was just happy to help, but he’d almost vibrated out of his skin until he managed to get to Kevin and tell him all about it. He wished desperately for Jeremy, but Kevin at least gave him a suitably shocked and impressed reaction.

The days went on. Allison began putting her military training to use. Renee said she was ideal for whipping the new recruits into shape. She certainly shouted loudly enough, and scared one of the toughest, most-trigger happy morons into respectfully calling her Ma’am. Renee related all of this to Jean with a fond smile on her face while she twirled the ends of her hair around one finger.

There was plans for a party in the works, ostensibly to welcome back their weary travellers. Jean didn’t know if this was optimism or something to keep their spirits up, or based on genuine intel from the group that meant they were coming back safe. Jean knew they had fancier ways of communicating than beepers. But the concept was intriguing; he didn’t really know what a party was supposed to entail.

‘Depends on the crowd,’ was Allison’s only response. Renee was able to shed more light.

‘It usually involves music, food, and dancing,’ she said. ‘And talking to your friends. They can be a fun way to relax, or let off some steam.’

There would even be alcohol, apparently. Jean and Kevin were both very interested in this.

Jean was back to sleeping alone, and he didn’t like it. There was no question of him staying with Kevin, who was thoroughly spoken for in terms of roommates. Renee and Allison had allegedly shacked up together too, although neither would confirm. Jean was spending most of his nights in the medical bay, letting Abby get some sleep in her own room, but she wouldn’t let him away with that forever.

‘You need a full night of unbroken sleep,’ she said, sternly. ‘In darkness. I know the fluorescents keep you awake.’

But when Jean went upstairs to sleep, it was Jeremy’s door he found himself in front of. The only place he wanted to sleep.

The room was musty. Jean wrinkled his nose; it smelled like sex and unwashed sheets. Crossing to the window, he threw it open to let in some air, goosebumps rising on his skin at the blast of cold air. He shook out the sheets and straightened a few things; Jeremy was messy.

It was strange to be in the bed without him. Jean curled his fingers around the bedsheet and remembered their last time there together.

He lay down and buried his head in the pillow. There, all he could smell was Jeremy. The scent of them combined together. Jean closed his eyes and slept.

The weather went through an unusually warm patch over the next week. It was good news for their friends, still out there sleeping rough. Jean liked to go out into the grounds in the morning to get some fresh air. There were clutches of bright little flowers still kicking in the unkempt grounds, and Jean started to gather a few handfuls in the morning. He put them in a small glass of water in Jeremy’s bedroom, and was dismayed to return in the evening and find that they had deteriorated significantly in appearance. On his lunch break he took a trip to the Palmetto library and found a gardening book. It didn’t help much at all, as Jean didn’t plan to do any gardening, and he discovered that in fact the “flowers” he had gathered were actually weeds. But when he was returning it to the shelf he spotted another, smaller book with flowers on it.

The book was a thoughtful, aesthetically-pleasing goldmine. On its advise, Jean started leaving the petals in a little jar, and between their folded t-shirts and trousers in the drawer. The book suggested pressing them between the pages of books, so he did that too. He started leaving his books in Jeremy’s room so he could read them at night. He covered the room in glasses and filled them with the flowers/weeds. Daisies and dandelions and thistle; they all looked good to Jean, regardless of what the book thought. He’d clean it all up before Jeremy got back, but the room was starting to smell fresh and lightly perfumed. It was nice to go to sleep in and nice to wake up in. Jean just wished he wasn’t alone in it.

Rumours began to trickle down from Command. Renee kept her ear to the ground and told them whatever she heard, and finally she met them at dinner one evening with a big smile on her face. It had been four lpng weeks since Jeremy and the others had left.

‘They’re coming back,’ she said, her eyes bright. ‘They’ll be here in a few days, 2 or 3 maybe. They’re bringing a whole group!’

The news didn’t stay secret for very long. As soon as the order came down to start opening up some of the unused rooms, people started getting excited. There was a lot of work to be done, and people were pulled off their regular work duty to help get Palmetto ready. Even Jean was farmed out to various areas to lend a hand. When he heard this, Jean felt a flicker of knee-jerk fear that he would be forced into manual labor again, but the reality was much nicer.

For two days Jean was banned from the med bay, and instead shook out sheets and swept up dust and beat rugs and curtains out the windows. He and a few others made trips to the library and selected boxes of books that would brighten up the new rooms. They spent a memorable few hours sorting through crates and bags of clothes that had been gathered from the surrounding homes and stores, and Jean discovered that there were more types and colours of clothing than he had ever imagined. Everything had a variation, and there were so many patterns and logos and phrases that he didn’t understand.

‘Please, please put this on,’ Allison begged him, holding out a white t-shirt. It looked and smelled fairly clean, so Jean willingly took off his own, well-worn t-shirt and put on the new one.

‘Perfect,’ whispered Allison, standing back. Renee looked over her shoulder and actually snorted.

‘I don’t understand,’ Jean said, looking down at himself. He had neglected to read the phrase written in big bubble letters. Upside down, he mouthed, “We’re here, we’re queer, get used to it”.

He looked up, exasperated. ‘Is this a joke about me?’

Thus he received his first lessons about gay pride from a very amused Renee. Jean didn’t really get the hype, but he left the t-shirt on, wondering idly if Jeremy would like it.

He crossed paths with Neil later, on his last trip from the library.

‘Are you completely off doctor duty then?’ he asked.

Jean nodded. ‘Unless there’s an emergency,’ he said. ‘What are you doing?’

Neil shrugged. ‘Just pitching in,’ he said. His serious eyes were on Jean’s shirt. ‘Where did you get that?’

Jean sent him off towards the library, wondering if Neil would like a gay t-shirt too.

Jean checked in at the med bay just before bed, in case Abby needed anything, and then drifted up towards bed. Allison was in charge of planning the party, and was in her element. He passed her in deep discussion with two other women, while Renee stood back near the wall, smiling that tiny smile she had just for Allison.

‘The planning continues?’ Jean asked her in a low voice.

Renee nodded. ‘I have to admit, I was skeptical about using so much of our resources for something like this. But it’s really buoyed everyone up. I think I’ll be campaigning for monthly parties from now on. It’s worth it.’

She never took her eyes off Allison as she spoke. Jean looked at her too, and saw that same light in her eyes that Jeremy got sometimes.

He had filled the room with more flowers that morning, but when he eventually got up there he was too tired to take them out of their glasses and put things away. It can be done in the morning, Jean reasoned, carefully folding his new t-shirt into the drawer Jeremy had designated specifically for Jean’s things.

Tomorrow, Jean thought. Maybe tomorrow he would be sharing a bed again.

The morning began as normal. Jean was back in the med bay, having a quiet morning with no patients and no paperwork to do. He was flipping through one of the encyclopaedias he’d already read when Allison came slinking through the door.

‘I thought I’d find you here,’ she said, leaning up against the doorframe and giving him a dramatic look.

Jean threw her an exasperated look. ‘What? Where else would I be?’

Allison clapped her hand to her forehead dramatically. ‘Jean! Your _man_ has returned, and you’re not there!’

Jean dropped the book with a clunk. ‘My - what? Jeremy - ’

Allison snatched a box of masks off the shelf and flung them at his head. Jean swatted the box away and pushed past her in the doorway. ‘Pick those up!’ he called over his shoulder.

The entrance hall was crowded with bodies, and Jean found himself hemmed in against the wall. Coach and two other members of Command were halfway up the steps, beside the giant fox statue that was inexplicably part of the Palmetto decor. Coach was waving for quiet, and Jean was startled to see Kevin standing beside him.

There was a speech. Jean barely heard any of it. He was too busy craning his neck, taking in the dusty, dirty faces of Laila and Alvarez, Matt and Dan. Neil was at the foot of the steps with Andrew, conversing quietly. Aaron and Katelyn were nowhere to be seen. Jeremy was not there.

Jean wanted to loudly interrupt and ask where he was. He kept trying to catch Kevin’s eye, but his brother was staring into the middle distance like he had something very important on his mind. If he’d been near enough to Neil to pinch him he’d have done so, even risking Andrew’s wrath, but he was stuck at the back of the crowd.

Half-listening, half-panicking, Jean gathered that the mission had been a success and that a sizeable group had been rescued. Coach was actually smiling - or maybe what approximated a smile from him. It looked more like a mad grin. Kevin vaguely resembled Coach, but he definitely got his smile from his mother, whoever she was.

Jean waited anxiously until the end of the speech and everyone started to disperse. He was about to push his way towards Kevin and demand an explanation when he felt a hand on his elbow.

It was Katelyn. Her eyes were wide and her hair was dirty, but she was smiling.

Without thinking, Jean grabbed her into a hug. Katelyn’s breath oofed out of her in surprise, but then she was hugging him back. Relief flooded through Jean, but his anxious heart thumped loudly on.

‘Where’ve you been?’ she said, in his ear.

Jean pulled back and held her by the shoulders. ‘Where have _I_ been?’ he demanded. ‘What - ‘

‘We went straight to the med bay,’ Katelyn explained. ‘I guess we just missed you.’

Med bay, Jean thought, from a great distance. ‘Who is hurt?’

‘Aaron,’ Katelyn said. ‘But he’s fine, just some cuts. Nothing Abby can’t handle. But Jeremy - ‘

Jean’s heart leapt into his mouth, and he readied himself for the worst. Katelyn’s smile and calm demeanour couldn’t quell the feeling inside him that everything he had gained was now going to be swiped away from him.

But Katelyn just pointed, and Jean turned to follow her gaze.

The hall was still full of people milling around. The welcome team were out with their welcome hampers, passing them around to the bewildered new arrivals. Hands were being shaken, smile and names exchanged. Jean should have been participating - he’d missed this for himself when he’d arrived, as he’d been unconscious - but once he saw Jeremy standing at the corner of the hallway leading off the main hall, he froze.

‘He’s avoiding Coach,’ Katelyn said, quietly. Jean could hear the smile in her voice. ‘Laila and Alvarez have got it covered for now …’

Jeremy met Jean’s gaze. He looked as tired as the rest of them, and there was a scrape across his cheek - Jean’s heart thudded furiously at the sight - but otherwise he looked fine. He was _fine_. All limbs intact. He didn’t look hurt, and his shoulder wasn’t being held at an awkward angle that meant he was in pain.

Jeremy gave him that tiny smile, the one that was just for Jean, and beckoned. Jean used his shoulders to mercilessly carve a path to him.

As soon as Jeremy saw Jean was coming, he turned and hustled down the hall a little. Electricity rationing meant all non-essential areas were in darkness for most of the day. This corridor had no important doors leading off it, and was just used to get from point A to point B, so when Jeremy turned, Jean was relying on the distant light behind him to illuminate his face and check that, yes, he was definitely ok. Jean felt a tremor run through his body.

‘Jeremy.’

With a rushed exhale, Jeremy threw himself into Jean’s arms. It was like all the tension fell out of their bodies at once; they sagged against each other, hearts pounding.

‘Thank god,’ Jeremy was saying, hoarsely. ‘Thank god.’

Jean held him tightly, breathing him in like he was starved of air. When he finally drew back, he gripped Jeremy by the shoulders. ‘What are you talking about?’

Jeremy held on to Jean’s wrists and tilted his head to press his cheek to Jean’s hand. He was smiling, but it was tinged with sadness. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. A tear leaked out of his eye and trickled on to Jean’s fingers.

Jean pulled him in again, wrapping him up in his arms.

He held him tightly, almost lifting him off his feet. He was suddenly afraid. Something had shaken Jeremy, something that he’d seen out there, maybe.

‘Tell me what you want,’ he whispered. ‘Jeremy. What can I do?’

Jeremy inhaled deeply through his nose. His breathing sounded like he had a cold; Jean wanted suddenly to get him into the med bay and look him over top to bottom.

‘I just … I want to go to bed with you,’ he said, in a tiny voice.

The honesty jolted Jean to his core.

‘Can you - can you just give me an hour, so I can sort some stuff out with Coach?’ Jeremy pleaded. ‘Can you meet me in our room in an hour?’

Anxiety thrummed through Jean’s body; something was wrong, something had happened. An hour - ok, he could do that. Then he’d get Jeremy into their room and close the door and let him talk or whatever he wanted to do to make him feel better. He’d do anything.

‘Ok,’ he said, nodding. He leaned in and pressed their foreheads together. ‘One hour. Do you need me to do anything?’

Jeremy shook his head, smiling a little. He already looked a little better. ‘No, just - just be there.’

Jean took him in his arms and held him again for another long moment, rubbing his back.

‘I’m so glad you’re back,’ he murmured into his hair.

Jeremy pulled back, and brushed their noses together. He reached out and took Jean’s face in his hands and kissed him. Jean kissed him back, desperately. Just having him in his arms was like clicking a joint back into place.

After he let him go, Jean took a few moments to breathe, and then he went straight to the med bay.

When Abby saw him coming she just smiled back down at her paperwork. ‘Come to beg some time off?’ she asked.

Jean’s stomach fluttered anxiously. ‘Yes, I - Jeremy just got back, and he’s - He needs me right now.’

Abby nodded. ‘In addition to the time off for tomorrow night’s party?’

Jean bit his lip. ‘Yes. I’m sorry, I know it’s a lot, can I - ’

Abby interrupted him with a snort. ‘Jean, sweetheart, I’m just yanking your chain.’ She looked up at him and rolled her eyes. ‘Christ, it’s not even funny with you. I’m sorry - yes, Jean, go. Please. I don’t want to see you back here until tomorrow afternoon.’

Jean gaped. It was such an abrupt turnaround that Abby looked up again in confusion. ‘Begone!’ she commanded, waving her hand. ‘Before someone comes in here with a broken neck and I have to disappoint you.’

So it turned out Jean didn’t need the hour. He passed Allison in the hall, looking murderous, and spotted Neil disappearing around a corner with Andrew. Jean wondered how that kind of a reunion would go, and how it was different to his own with Jeremy.

 _Jeremy_.

Jean didn’t want to go into the room without him. _Their_ room. Jeremy had called it that. Despite his worry, inside he was glowing softly with pleasure at the oneness; the shared _we_ , the _our_. They were a pair. Jeremy hadn’t looked for anyone else when he’d come back. He’d needed Jean, yes, but he also _wanted_ him.

He leaned against the wall opposite their door, lost in thought. So much so that he didn’t notice the time go by, or hear the footsteps.

‘Jean.’

He was standing there, looking clean and showered but incredibly tired. Jean pushed away from the wall, suddenly unsure.

They looked at each other for a few moments, and then Jeremy moved to the other side of the wall. He looked quiet, and thoughtful.

‘So how’s it been?’ he asked, turning to face Jean.

Jean took a breath. ‘Fine,’ he said, slowly. ‘Same as usual. Busy, the last few days. Getting ready for this party. Do you know anything about that?’

Jeremy gave a little smile. ‘Right, the party. Ah, Alvarez proposed.’

‘Proposed what?’

Jeremy blinked, then laughed his big, sparkling laugh that made Jean take a step towards him automatically.

‘Marriage,’ Jeremy said, smiling. ‘To Laila. It was a big mess, and we were all fighting … and she just snapped, and told everyone to shut up, and then she got down on one knee.’

Jean was smiling too, despite himself, because the light was finally back on in Jeremy’s eyes.

‘Very, ah, romantic,’ he said.

Jeremy nodded, still smiling. ‘You know, it kind of was,’ he said. ‘It definitely shut us all up. And we all just stood there while Alvarez cried, and poured her heart out, and then they were kissing and hugging and it just kind of … helped us, a little. We pulled it together after that. I think it kind of reminded everyone what we were doing this for. Even Andrew chilled out a bit.’

Jean raised his eyebrows. ‘Really.’

Jeremy nodded. ‘Yeah. He was actually kind of quiet while we were gone - when he wasn’t being vicious. I think he missed them.’

Silence fell between them again.

Then Jeremy reached out for Jean. His eyes were dark, and sure. Jean’s heart surged as he closed the gap and took his hand, then touched his face.

‘Will you tell me what’s wrong?’ he asked, trying not to let his anxiety colour his voice.

Jeremy looked up at him. ‘Nothing’s wrong,’ he said. ‘Not anymore.’

Jeremy turned and opened the door, one hand still in Jean’s. He only let him go once they were inside, when Jean turned back to shut the door and lock it.

‘Have you been sleeping here?’ Jeremy asked, with a strange note in his voice.

The lock clicked in Jean’s hand. ‘Yes.’ He’d been assuming that would be ok. As he turned around, he remembered.

Jeremy was standing with his back to Jean, taking in the room, which was simply littered with half-filled glasses of water stuffed with wilting flowers. There were petals all over the floor. Yellowing leaves curled on the dresser and at the foot of the bed. There had to be a shortage of glassware in the kitchens. Panic slipped into Jean’s veins.

‘About the, uhhhh … flowers,’ Jean said, slowly. ‘I, uh … meant to have it cleaned up before you got back. But I forgot …’

It was a lame excuse for trashing his bedroom. Why hadn’t he considered the fact that Jeremy might be back early and would want a peaceful sleep in a clean bedroom? Anxiety curled in his stomach.

‘Jean …’

Jeremy turned around. One hand was over his mouth. For once, Jean didn’t misinterpret.

‘You like it?’ he asked, carefully.

Jeremy couldn’t speak. He was just nodding. Then he reached out.

The room was lit by the morning light, catching on every glass and bouncing off the water. Jean closed his eyes to it as he buried his face in Jeremy’s neck, feeling a surge of happiness bursting through that tightness in his chest.

‘I haven’t felt like this since … before,’ Jeremy said, voice muffled slightly against Jean’s shoulder.

Jean stroked his hair. ‘Like what?’

‘Like I’ve come home.’

Jean guided him to the bed, and lay him down upon it. Jeremy didn’t let go of his t-shirt so Jean went down with him. For a while, all Jeremy wanted to do was breathe him in. But then, right when Jean thought he might be falling asleep, the mood changed.

‘God, I missed you,’ Jeremy murmured, touching his cheek to turn his head. He kissed him, slow and deep, and Jean was more than happy to return the affection. Jeremy ran a hand under Jean’s t-shirt, touching his stomach and making little amused noises when Jean jumped.

‘So ticklish,’ he murmured.

‘It’s just you,’ Jean replied, grabbing his wrist to stop him doing it, but then bringing it to his lips.

They didn’t go further than kissing and touching. Jean could feel how exhausted Jeremy was, but stronger still was his will to get reacquainted, so Jean let him go as far as he wanted before gently rolling him over and wrapping his body around him.

‘Go to sleep,’ Jean said.

Jeremy mumbled something unintelligible, and then, ‘If they need me.’

Jean had already decided not to wake Jeremy for anything less than the building burning down. ‘Don’t worry,’ he promised. ‘I’ll take care of it.’

Jeremy gave in with a little sigh, and Jean smiled as he felt the full weight of him sink against his body.

Jeremy was out cold for about four hours, and Jean used that time to bask in the pleasure of just having him safe and in his arms again. He dozed a little, but was ready for Jeremy when he did wake up, startled, with eyes bright and disorientated.

‘Wha - Jean.’ Jeremy’s breath expelled in a gasp. ‘Christ.’

Jean sat up with him, but Jeremy was already reaching out.

‘You ok?’

Jeremy nodded. ‘Forgot where I was,’ he muttered, rubbing his chest absentmindedly. Jean put a hand on the back of his neck and made stupid noises that he hoped were soothing until Jeremy had calmed down a little.

‘I’m fine,’ Jeremy assured him, smiling ruefully as he settled back against Jean’s chest. ‘We had a few rude awakenings on the road. Nothing dramatic. Just some hairy moments, that’s all.’

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

Jeremy shook his head. ‘No,’ he said, quietly. ‘There’s nothing really to talk about. It was a tough road, and then we got there. We found them. No one was hurt. It was just … hard. I think I’ve gone soft,’ he finished, with a smile.

Jean touched the cut on his cheek. ‘How did this happen?’

Jeremy frowned briefly. ‘Oh - I think it was the wire fence. I was the last out … Must have been checking over my shoulder. Don’t worry, Abby gave me the all-clear.’

Jean was still suspicious - Jeremy had been incredibly shaken - but decided not to press him. It was easy to do, especially when Jeremy tilted his head back for a kiss.

‘Mmm.’ Jeremy smiled, his eyes still closed. ‘So what did I miss?’

Jean filled him in as best he could. There wasn’t much to tell, but he did his best. Jeremy drank it all in, kissing him whenever Jean paused to think. This didn’t exactly help the thinking process, and the ended up doing significantly more kissing than talking. Jean couldn’t believe he’d allowed himself to forget how good kissing was. Maybe it had been a defence mechanism. Maybe part of him never wanted to hold on to anything good, because it was sure to be taken from him.

Despite that, being with Jeremy made Jean feel further from the person he used to be than ever before. He felt new, and without fear. Jeremy was right. It felt like home.

Someone came looking for Jeremy eventually, as they always did, but they got a good few hours of peace together. Jean roamed the length of Jeremy’s body, finding bruises and sore spots that he delighted in kissing better. He was considering going even lower when the knock came.

‘Who the fuck,’ groaned Jeremy. ‘Why does this always happen - ‘

‘I’ll get it,’ said Jean, calmly. He’d been expecting it.

It was Laila, of course. She leaned against the door awkwardly while Jeremy stumbled around putting on his clothes.

‘You’re getting married,’ Jean remembered, eventually.

Laila’s expression changed totally. She couldn’t fight the smile off her face.

‘Well done,’ Jean said. That wasn’t right. ‘I mean, congratulations.’

‘Yeah, we’re all thrilled,’ said Jeremy distractedly, fully clothed. ‘Laila, I’ll meet you down the hall.’

Without waiting to see if she was leaving, Jeremy turned to Jean and pulled him down into a deep kiss. Laila made a noise of amusement and presumably moved away, but Jean couldn’t spare a thought towards anything but Jeremy’s mouth on his, his hand on the back of his neck. Jean wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close, and had a very hard time letting him go again.

Allison was storming around in a towering fury, because apparently no one had told her that it was a wedding they were planning, not just a generic party, and this was an important distinction. Weddings were a very new concept for Jean, and he wasn’t sure what to expect.

‘Well, usually someone wears white, and there’s flowers and food and drinking and dancing,’ said Katelyn, kicking her feet up on the table in one of the few lounge areas that hadn’t been stripped for parts. ‘But we don’t have anything white and all the flowers are dead, so we’ll just have to make do.’

‘Not all the flowers,’ Jeremy murmured, with a smirk in Jean’s direction, who blushed.

There was a lot to do to get the new recruits settled in, and Jean found himself called into action on more than one occasion. Jeremy just mumbled something about “shared life experience” and let him at them, but it didn’t take long for Jean to realise that whatever kind of place Jeremy had liberated, it hadn’t been too different from the Nest.

Jean tried not to lose his head about it, but not many of them were willing to talk about whatever they’d just escaped. Word had gotten out about him, apparently, so he didn’t have to do much talking either. While Jeremy ran errands and caught up with Command, Jean showed a series of increasingly dazed and unsure individuals where to put their toothbrushes and who to go to if they were lost or couldn’t remember what they were meant to be doing. It was sort of a relief to pass that information on; Jean realised he didn’t need it anymore.

Jeremy came back to him around dinnertime. Space was at a premium with all the new recruits very eager for a hot meal, so Jeremy sat sideways in Jean’slap and the two of them ate from the same bowl.

‘That’s disgusting,’ Allison commented.

‘Get your hand out of Renee’s pocket and you can tell me what’s disgusting,’ Jeremy replied, calmly.

‘I shall not.’

Jean just smiled and rested his chin on Jeremy’s shoulder. He was significantly lighter than he’d been before the expedition. All Jean’s good work fattening him up had gone to waste. He amended that thought after a quick look around at the hungry, hopeful faces that now packed the dining hall. Maybe not a total waste.

Jeremy found himself remarkably free after dinner - or maybe he was just ignoring his responsibilities in favour of holding Jean’s hand in an evening stroll around the grounds. Jean hoped it was the latter, but he wasn’t going to ask any questions.

‘It was bad, you know?’ Jeremy said.

They were standing outside, stargazing. Jean was getting a little cold, and had been hoping that Jeremy would call it a night and come inside to their warm bed, but now he frowned.

‘What? You mean … out there?’

Jeremy nodded. ‘Where they were,’ he clarified. He swallowed, and squeezed Jean’s hand. ‘It was like the Nest. They did seem … marginally happier. Not everyone wanted to come.’

Jean had been avoiding actually socialising with the people Jeremy had helped rescue. There was no good way to explain why, but he was done talking about the Nest. He was done thinking about it too, any more than he had to.

‘You did your best,’ Jean said, softly.

Jeremy was nodding. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Yeah … Just makes me wonder how many more are out there, like you.’

Jean didn’t like thinking about that, either. They could hear very distant gunfire.

‘We should go to bed,’ Jeremy said. ‘Wedding tomorrow, and I’m the best man for both brides.’

Jean turned them around and put an arm over his shoulder. ‘Explain that to me again.’

The wedding took place in the Palmetto sports stadium, because there was nowhere else big enough to hold everyone. Laila said she didn’t want to feel like she was in a gladiator ring, whatever that meant, so they had erected a platform in the centre of the court where she and Alvarez would be married. Jeremy was down there too, flitting back and forth between the two of them, along with Dan. Apparently there had to be two witnesses, which Jean hadn’t quite understood because there were nearly a thousand witnesses from what he could see.

The meaning of all the pomp and ceremony was lost on him slightly, but to his surprise he found that he enjoyed it immensely. Allison had spent the morning still furious that nothing was ready and that the stadium didn’t look as good as it should, but the second the music started up and Laila appeared at the mouth of the tunnel, dressed in white and arm in arm with Jeremy, she burst into tears and didn’t stop until it was over. Jeremy had to jog back down and repeat the process with Alvarez, who practically ran him up the steps in her eagerness.

It was his first wedding, and shouldn’t have meant anything to him, but sitting there watching his two friends smile and laugh and sob and tell everyone how much they loved each other, Jean found himself feeling strangely emotional too. His eyes kept straying to Jeremy, who was smiling as hard as he was crying.

Rationing had been eased slightly - very slightly - in order to allow for a wedding party that satisfied expectations. Jean had no expectations, so he was very happy to receive a larger portion of food than usual, and two kinds of dessert. And after dessert, they brought out the alcohol. Jean and Kevin found themselves the centre of attention as they had two glasses of mysterious, strong smelling liquid pressed into their hands.

‘You’re supposed to have a first beer, but beer was the first to go,’ Jeremy said, apologetically. Kevin was sniffing the colourless liquid with interest. Jean thought it looked like water, so he knocked it back quickly. Kevin, watching him, followed his lead.

‘More?’ Jeremy grinned.

Jean shoved the cup back at him. ‘God, no.’

Kevin held his out. ‘Is there?’

Jean did have a little more, once Jeremy introduced him to the art of mixing. There was some fizzy juice being passed around, and Jean found he quite liked the burn of alcohol as it went down. It loosened his tongue, and he found that he was putting his hands on Jeremy more than he strictly meant to. This was drunk, Jean realised. This is what everyone misses so much?

Little lights twinkled on the ceiling. Jean was dancing with Katelyn, though he had no idea how to dance. Jeremy had made him wear the shirt about being here and queer because it had made him laugh so hard. Everyone looked colourful; Jeremy was wearing a shirt loudly patterned with yellow and blue leaves, and the brides had daisies in their hair. Everyone was beautiful. Jean felt like he was in love with them all.

He loved Jeremy the most, though. Jean had been trying to wrap his brain around that word for a while now. Seeing Kevin sandwiched between Neil and Kevin, smiling from what could only be alcohol poisoning, and watching Laila swing Alvarez around and laugh into her hair, Jean realised that he felt what they were feeling. Love was normal, and he was feeling it. He wanted to throw his hands up into the air but settled for putting them on Jeremy’s shoulders and kissing him.

‘Had enough?’ Jeremy asked him over the noise.

Jean shook his head. ‘Not even close.’

The wedding wore on, and luckily the alcohol ran out, because everyone’s tolerance was for shit after 3 years of sobriety. Jeremy found himself able to forget the events of the last four weeks, and flitted from group to group, smiling and laughing. The war had been briefly forgotten. Just for tonight, they were at peace.

He couldn’t take his eyes off Jean. The difference in him was so startling that Jeremy kept doing a double-take. His skin was glowing, his hair was shiny, and he was walking with his head high and his shoulders back. He didn’t shrink back or slump, his fists didn’t curl up in anxiety. Someone had showed him how to push his hair back from his forehead, and the bruise-like shadows under his eyes were mere memories of themselves now.

It made Jeremy’s heart burst to see him standing tall, with a smile on his face, looking so damn good in that daft white t-shirt that clung to his chest and biceps and made him look so happy.

Jean clearly had zero concept of dancing or what it was supposed to look like, but that didn’t stop him from trying. Jeremy watched Katelyn falling over herself laughing as she tried to get Jean to move his hips. Jean, clearly made of wood, wasn’t getting it, but he made some comment that had her doubled over, and then he caught Jeremy’s eye with a sparkle in his own, and Jeremy was done for.

The party went on long into the night. Jeremy hardly noticed the time go by, and when he eventually started to wilt he found Jean by his side.

‘Ready for bed?’ Jeremy asked him, with a sleepy smile.

Jean nodded, and kissed his nose. ‘It’s been fun, but I need to make you smell like me again.’

Jeremy laughed, blushing. ‘That’s the most flirtatious thing I’ve ever heard you say out of bed.’

‘It’s the alcohol. No one warned me.’

Jeremy laughed into his collar. The shirt didn’t smell musty anymore; it smelled like Jean.

‘Want to make one stop first?’ Jean asked.

“One stop” turned out to be the roof of Palmetto. It was freezing cold, the wind whipping across the exposed roof, but Jean wrapped Jeremy up in his arms and held him tight.

‘Why?’ Jeremy forced out, shivering.

‘Wait,’ Jean chided him.

They only had a few uncomfortable minutes to get through before Jeremy understood. The sun was coming up.

The first rays reached their feet, warming their legs and then slowly blinding them.

‘Oh,’ Jeremy said, softly. ‘Good timing.’

Jean nodded, nose in his hair. ‘I might have planned it. Just a little.’

Jeremy bit down on his smile. ‘I knew you were a romantic.’

‘I learned it all from you,’ Jean said, and Jeremy could hear the smile in his voice.

They watched the sunrise until it became too cold to stay outside, even bathed in the dawn. The light fell across their skin, and their bedroom smelled like flowers, but soon it would smell like them again.


End file.
